Seeking Asylum
by Wandering Rusalka
Summary: Having been forced to leave the sanctuary of the farm, the group continues their trek towards Fort Benning. Meanwhile, a few friends leave the safe haven to head north seeking a loved one. Will paths cross? Some Daryl/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Somewhere South of Atlanta**

"_I'm not bitten!"_

The group had left Hershel's farm only days earlier. After stopping for the night what they decided is a secured spot, they set up camp. It's while everyone is eating that the blood-drenched girl wanders out of the trees.

Unable to tell if the blood is hers, and unwilling to get close enough to check for bites, Daryl had snuck up behind her and knocked her out with the butt of his crossbow. They'd tied her to a tree, while they decided what to do next.

When she came to, she struggled, and then started to insist she hadn't been bitten. So far, everyone is ignoring her.

"What if she's _not_ infected?" Glen is one of a few who wanted to give her a chance. The only others are Dale and Carl.

Rick is undecided, while Shane wants to shoot her. Andrea and Daryl are all for leaving her behind and Lori is staying neutral.

"_You_ check her, then," Daryl says. "I say we just leave her here and go in the morning."

"Leave her?" Carl stares at him.

The adults seem to realize this isn't the conversation for a kid. However, no one tries to make him leave. Everyone has to grow up sometime.

"What makes you think she's _not_ bitten? Do you see a weapon with her? How did she get here?" Andrea asks.

"If we wait, she might not get a fever," Dale mentions. "Then we'll know."

"Andrea and Lori could look her over. Keep a gun on her, make her strip down," Rick states, breaking his silence. "That way they can search for bite wounds."

"And if we don't find any?" Andrea asks.

"She comes along."

Daryl eyes him. "You were one of those kids that constantly brought home stray animals, huh?"

Rick ignores him, looking at Andrea, then at Shane. His friend looks pissed off, but doesn't argue, and Andrea just shrugs. He looks at Lori who is staring intently at the fire. She glances up at him, then shrugs a little.

"Sure."

"_I'm not bitten!"_

Shane just shakes his head. "This is stupid, and a waste of time."

Rick frowns at him for a minute. "If she's bitten, we shoot her, or leave her. You all can draw straws."

He stands and walks away, clearly done with the whole thing. Triumphant, Glenn hands over his flashlight to Lori as she gets to her feet.

"Thanks," she mutters, taking it. Dale hands Andrea a knife.

Andrea leads the way out into the woods about fifty yards from the edge of the fire. Lori follows, just glad to get away from the smell of dinner.

As soon as the light hits the girl, both pauses. Whatever color her clothes originally were, now they're just a mottled reddish brown. The material looks stiff, too. Her hair is stringy. She obviously hasn't bathed in days.

She looks up at them. "I wasn't bitten. I _wasn't_."

Andrea aims the gun at her. "Don't move. I'm going to untie you. If you move even a hair, I'll shoot. Got it?"

"Yeah…"

Moving slowly so she can keep the gun aimed at the stranger's head, Andrea walks over. With the knife, she slices through the rope.

"Don't fucking move," she hisses. The girl holds her breath.

Backing up to stand next to Lori again, Andrea slips the knife back into her pocket. Lori keeps the flashlight beam on the girl.

"Slowly, take off your clothes," Andrea orders. "We're checking you for bites."

The girl gets up as if she forgot how to stand. Her legs have fallen asleep as she sat there. Leaning against the tree for help balancing, she carefully peels off her shirt. Neither Lori nor Andrea knows what to expect, but the girl's body is startlingly clean compared to her arms and clothes. She drops her shirt on the grass and starts peeling off the tight pants that look similar to yoga pants, or maybe thick leggings. The lower half of her is as clean as the top. She puts her hands up and turns around.

There aren't any bites.

"Well, shit…" Andrea says with a little laugh.

Lori doesn't relax. "What about your arms?"

The girl rubs her hands over them and holds them out. "No bites."

Lori moves the light a little to see better, but it's true. While dirty, the girl's arms have no obvious punctures.

"And your scalp?" Lori refuses to budge. She has a son, and now a new baby, to protect after all.

Andrea frowns. "Come on, Lori. She's not infected." It isn't unnoticed that Andrea has changed sides.

The girl bends over and combs her fingers through his hair. From what they can see, there is only pale scalp under the dark, greasy hair. She straightens back up and just looks at them.

Finally, Lori nods. "Alright. But now she needs clothes. She can't put that shit on again."

Andrea agrees. Wiggling out of the men's button-up shirt, she tosses it over to the girl. Underneath she is wearing a thin camisole, which is enough.

"Thanks," the girl mumbles. She pulls it on. Buttoned, it reaches halfway to her knees. It isn't much, but none of the guys will get an eyeful.

"What's your name?"

"Rachael."

"I'm Lori, this is Andrea."

Rachael only nods a little, before falling into step with them. Her silence on the way back to the fire is a little uncanny, but neither of the older women seems to care. They figure the petite stranger is just in shock. It isn't until they are at the fire that both of them notice her feet.

"Why don't you have shoes?" Andrea is looking at her suspiciously again.

Rachael glances down. "Creek ate them. Lost one in the mud, the other soaked through. It rubbed my ankle raw before I gave up on it."

The other two glance at each other, before shrugging. When Shane sees them bringing her back, he gets to his feet.

"What the hell?"

"We checked her, Shane," Lori says, sounding tired. "She's not bitten."

"Just dirty," Andrea adds with a hint of a smile.

Daryl stands up. "How the fuck did you get out here without a weapon?"

Rachael blinks as if she hasn't been aware she has none, and looks at her hands. "I had a gun. It ran outta bullets. Lost a tire iron when a zombie fell down an embankment."

Glenn snorts. "Zombie?"

She frowns. "What do you call them?"

"Walkers," he says. "The walking dead."

"Oh…"

"What's your name?" Carl pipes up.

She smiles a little at him, and it's the first time her features have softened at all. Otherwise she's looked at everyone with a doe-eyed expression. "Rachael."

"I'm Carl." He grins.

The rest go around and introduce themselves except Shane, who wanders off when it's obvious no one is concerned anymore, or listening to him.

"You hungry, honey?" Dale asks, once everyone is settling again.

Rachael nods. "Can't remember the last time I ate."

"Or bathed?" Daryl mutters.

She looks down. Both Lori and Andrea glare at him which he ignores.

"You're one to talk," Glen says. "You go days without washing by choice."

Daryl snorts and glances at the Korean. "Getting' some pussy definitely gave you some balls."

That shuts Glenn up. He doesn't want to remember Maggie.

The women decide to ignore him, and Rachael takes the plate offered to her.

"You could probably fit Carol's things," Lori comments a couple of minutes later, watching her. "She didn't take all of them."

"Or Amy's," Andrea says with a sad smile. "You'll have to roll the legs, though. You're shorter than she was."

"Who were they?" Rachael wonders.

"Carol was a friend." Andrea pauses, before looking away into the shadows. "Amy was my sister."

"I'm sorry." She looks it, too.

Andrea just shakes her head, noticeably pushing memories of her sister away. "Let me know when you're done eating. We'll go get you a bath in the stream. You can bed with me."

"Thank you."

**Fort Benning**

"We have to go get her."

The tall blond man has been pacing for a good hour. It isn't the first time, either. Ever since the group of friends had made it to the military compound, he's been on edge.

"We can't, Alex."

Alex turns to glare at the speaker. "Fuck you, Ethan. You've got Tabby right there."

Ethan sighs, rubbing at his face. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. But it's over two hours to Atlanta, and we have no idea how bad it is."

Alex huffs, but before he can respond, the petite redhead next to Ethan looks up at them.

"We do. We heard on the radio about the evacuation. Any of them that could, came here." Tabitha indicates the soldiers patrolling the fencing outside. "Only the zombies are there."

"And Rachael," Alex snaps. "She's in that fucking hospital. Where I _abandoned_ her."

"You didn't have a _choice_," Tabby reasons. "They had the best treatment, and your job is here."

"Was." Alex drops onto a cot. "This is so fucked. We have to go get her."

Ethan sighs, but pulls Tabby closer. He can understand why Alex feels like he does. If he knew Tabby was a couple hours away, possibly in danger, he'd be hell-bent on getting to her.

"Alex," Ethan starts, trying to be gentle, "she might not even be there."

Icy blue eyes focus on him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Tabby tenses up and shoots her boyfriend a warning look. "Ethan…"

He ignores her. "She might be dead, Alex, we don't even know—"

Ethan doesn't get any further. Alex leaps at the shorter man at _dead_ and punches him hard enough that Ethan topples backwards off his own cot. The swinging arm barely misses Tabby, who ducks too late with a little screech. The closest families look over at their group, but most stay away.

Alex has no intention of climbing over the cot to continue. "Don't fucking say that! She's not fucking—" He stops speaking in English and storms off, muttering in Swedish. This is another reason why he wants Rachael there. He hasn't had someone to talk to in Swedish in months.

Tabby helps Ethan sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says with a pain smile. "I knew it was coming when I said it."

He rolls his neck and flexes his jaw, testing it. Tabby watches him worriedly and only relaxes when he doesn't seem to be broken.

"I'll have a bruise later, but I'm fine," he gives as his prognosis.

"Idiot," she says affectionately, rolling her eyes.

He nods in agreement. "Probably."

She leans against him and sighs. After a few minutes, she looks at all the families. The soldiers keep them all in the barracks closest to the command headquarters, with constant patrols. Those who arrive are stripped, searched, and still medically quarantined. It lasts about four days. If someone is infected, they're dead before then. Everyone knows that.

"Do you think they'd even let us out?" she wonders quietly. "The military, I mean. If we wanted to go."

Slowly, Ethan turns to stare at her. "Are you serious? Tabs…"

"She's my _friend_, Ethan," she snaps, looking at him. "And Alex's girlfriend. She's all he's got, since there's no way to contact his family back in Europe."

He frowns, looking away. At least he knows where his is. He just pretends they're safe on the farm back in Texas.

"I don't know," he says, finally. "They shouldn't stop us. It'd leave them with three less mouths to feed."

"It's the army," Tabby sighs. "And the world has ended. They'll do what they want."

"Only one way to find out," Ethan comments, leaning forward to rub his hands over his face, and through his hair.

"Two."

Both of them look up to see Alex has returned. He's still stiff with anger, but has a newly determined set to his jaw.

"Two, what?" Tabby asks.

"Two ways." He starts rummaging through his bag. "I've settled it. I'm leaving tomorrow at dawn."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own _The Walking Dead_ or Peachford Hospital. I do own Rachael, Alex, Ethan, and Tabby, though.

* * *

><p><strong>I-85 S from Atlanta<strong>

Daryl has to admit, the new girl is actually pretty hot once she is cleaned off. He had watch the night before when she and Andrea got back, but it was dark then. The next morning, when he gets up, she's standing off a ways from camp. Her hair turns out to be a dark brown, and not the stringy black it looked in the dark. She is a little sunburnt, too, but that's pretty par for the course at this point, especially for those traveling on foot.

There is some kind of bracelet on her wrist, like the kind given at entrances to waterparks. He considers offering to cut it off, but Glenn beats him to it.

"Rachael?" The Asian wanders over to her. "Want me to cut that band off you?"

She turns to look at him in confusion, before glancing at her wrist. It has Daryl wondering if she's all there in the head, since she seems so spaced out. Maybe she's just in shock.

"Oh, thanks," she says with a little smile. "Glenn, right?"

He nods, moving over to her. Pulling out a pocket knife, he easily cuts through the wristband. She thanks him again and moves off to join the rest of the group for breakfast. Daryl watches her and looks back in time to see Glenn staring at whatever the band says. The look on his face raises a red flag for Daryl.

Wandering over, the hunter reaches out to take it. "Let me see that."

Glenn jumps, but tries to get it back too late. "Wait, not cool…"

That only gets him a scoff. Daryl looks down at the band, and feels dread knot in his stomach. He was wrong about the waterpark. This is a hospital ID band.

"Shit," he mutters. "Ain't Peachford that nuthouse outside Atlanta?"

The other man shifts uncomfortably. "Uh, yeah. It's a psychiatric facility."

"Great." Daryl sighs and squints over at the new girl. "We picked up a crazy chick."

"What do you suggest we do? Leave her here?" Glen demands. Hadn't they already gone through this argument with the whole group last night? "Maybe she's just got depression or something."

"So she's suicidal? Even better." Daryl shoves the band into his pocket. "Someone needs to tell the others." He gives Glenn a pointed look.

The Korean backs away. "Why me?"

"You cut it off," Daryl points out. "And you did just fine telling everyone about the walkers back in Hershel's barn."

Glenn glares at him. "Don't talk about that."

"Sorry, forgot you was all heartbroken," the redneck mutters. "Anyway, you should at least tell Rick."

"Ugh. I hate this." The ex-delivery boy holds out his hand. "Then give me the wristband back to show him."

Daryl hesitates, before shaking his head. Crossing his arms, he moves to walk over where Rick is eating with Lori and Dale.

"On second thought, I'll go with. You might burn it or some shit."

Glenn rolls his eyes, but walks over towards the others. The group keeps shrinking, although he can't blame Carol for staying behind at the farm. It still smarts Maggie didn't come along, but deep down, he can't really blame her either. He doesn't know how Daryl's handling Merle's disappearance, though. The loner has only seemed to open up to Carol, and without her here, he's closed up again.

"Hey, fellas, you eat yet?" Dale asks, smiling at them.

"Yeah," Glenn answers, not even glancing at Daryl, who just nods in agreement. Clearing his throat again, the Asian man continues, "We, uh, might have a small problem."

Daryl and Glenn both glance over at Rachael, who is sitting with Carl and Andrea, obviously enraptured with the boy's tale about being shot.

The others look over, too, before turning their attention back to Glenn.

"What seems to be the problem?" Rick asks. He looks and sounds exhausted.

Glenn shifts uncomfortably. "I cut a wristband off Rachael a few minutes ago. It says she's a patient at Peachford Hospital."

Daryl pulls out the evidence and hands it to Dale, who passes it to rick after glancing at it himself. The former sheriff studies it with a frown, while Lori leans in to have a look. Seeing it, she pales and starts to stand up. She doesn't want a lunatic near her son. Rick stops her with a hand on her arm.

"Wait a minute," he says. "We don't know she's dangerous."

Dale nods, but with obvious hesitation. "Rick's right. People go there for all types of problems. They also take in substance abusers, too."

Lori half-laughs. "Great, so a crack addict?"

"Calm down," Rick tells her in the tone he uses to get the group to cooperate cohesively. "Dale's right. She could have anything, maybe just depression. You want to kick her out because she's feeling hopeless? We've all felt like that."

Daryl crosses his arms. "Hate to point it out, but she wouldn't have gotten this far if she was depressed. She says she had a gun. Why not just shoot herself then?"

Glenn doesn't like where this is going, but he _is_ glad Shane isn't around. He's pretty sure their old leader has snapped. After the breakdown at the barn, no one's really felt entirely comfortable around him.

"Why don't we just ask her?" Glenn suggests. "She didn't attack anyone last night after we tied her up. I think she's harmless enough."

"Let's hope she doesn't go batshit on us," Daryl mutters.

Rick stands with a heavy sigh. "We might as well ask. It's not like she's armed." Straightening up, he calls out, "Hey, Rachael? You mind coming over here for a minute?"

The young woman turns to look at their group, staring like she's studying them for a minute, before she nods.

Smiling at Carl, she stands. "I'll be right back. Then I want you to finish your story. Okay?"

He grins. "'Kay."

After brushing off her rear, she wanders over to the others. Behind her, Andrea shoots them a questioning look. Lori just shakes her head a little.

Rachael stops next to Daryl. Even if she turns out to be completely off her rocker, he appreciates the way the top she's wearing is just a little too small across her chest. Amy hadn't been small, either, meaning Rachael has a damn nice rack. When she's at his side, he can see down the low neck into her cleavage.

He jerks when Glenn elbows him sharply. "Ow," he hisses, glaring at the shorter man.

For his part, Glenn looks disgusted, before rolling his eyes.

Rick holds up the wristband. "Why were you wearing this?"

If she understands that her status with the group is in jeopardy, Rachael shows no sign. She tucks a strand of her hair behind an ear.

"They put it on me at the hospital. I've been living there the past 18 months," she says, voice as blank as her face. She glances at Rick.

"_Why_ were you there?" Lori demands, before Rick can come up with a diplomatic way to ask.

That blank turns to Lori. "My boyfriend couldn't watch me. I was trying to keep the demons out, and it scared him." Rachael sighs and shoves her hands into the pockets of the jeans. "The docs said I have paranoid schizophrenia."

* * *

><p><strong>Fort Benning<strong>

Ethan and Tabby can only watch helplessly as Alex packs up his things. He has only a large duffel bag, and the large backpack that hikers and campers use. He'd apparently raided a sporting goods store not long after the chaos started. It was smart of him.

"Don't do this, dude," Ethan says, trying futilely to stop him. "It's not safe."

"That's why I'm not asking you to come with me," Alex states. He straightens up, sure he has everything as well-packed as possible. The blue eyes he knows lured Rachael in look at Ethan, and he _smiles_. "This is the first time since we got here that I feel at peace with myself. I'll be fine, guys."

He has a plan. His apartment is on the way out of town, so he'd stop in there and pick up his guns that he'd brought with him from Sweden. Customs had been a bitch, but he'd managed. Rachael had helped.

That was before she got sick, though. If they had stayed in Sweden, would she have stayed healthy? Sometimes he wonders.

"Did they really say they'd let you out?" Tabby asks. She's been quite the whole time until now. She looks at Alex with a little frown. "They won't try to stop you?"

Ethan looks at her, too shocked to say anything.

"They said if I want to go out there, it's my suicide. They can't give me weapons or supplies, that's my job," Alex states, relaying what the soldier had told him. "As long as there isn't a risk of zombies getting in, they'll let me out the main gate."

There's a thoughtfulness to Tabby's face that seriously worries Ethan. He doesn't want her to decide to go along, but a part of him knows she already has. That means he'll be going, too.

"So what's your plan, then?" she wonders.

"Go to my apartment, steal a car, restock, and hit the road," he answers with a little shrug. "Simple as that."

With a heavy sigh, Tabby stands and stretches. "I'm coming with you."

"Fuck," escapes Ethan before he can stop it. "Tabby, please…"

She shakes her head. "I have to go, too. I'm the one who told her about Peachford, so it's my fault she's even there. I'm going."

She moves over to their collection of bags and starts getting his things out to separate them from hers. He looks at Alex helplessly, but only gets a little shrug in return. The more of them, the more eyes that can be on watch, the better chances they have.

Putting his face in his hands for a minute, Ethan digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. Fuck.

"Alright, fine," he says, throwing his hands up. "I'm going, too." He has a feeling he'll regret this.

"Good," Alex states with a little nod. "We'll stop at a sport store again now, too, not a big deal."

Ethan just sighs, and starts helping Tabby repack the things of his that she'd begun to take out. When he's bent down, she leans up to give him a kiss with a grateful smile.

"Dawn, so get some sleep, you two," Alex says. He gives them a smile reminiscent of a boy who can't wait to get up Christmas morning for presents, and takes his things off to go shower.

As soon as he's gone, Ethan stops. "Tabs…"

She keeps rearranging things, and doesn't look at him. "We'll be fine. We know where to look, we'll stock up on supplies… we'll be fine." It isn't obvious just who she's trying to convince.

A heavy sigh escapes him, and he leans down to kiss the top of her head.

"Alright," he says softly. He can't let her go on her own. If Alex finds Rachael, then there'd be no one to watch Tabby's back. Now he has to go. "You owe me…"

The weak little smile his girlfriend gives him makes him wish he could take it back. However, he can't.

"I know," she answers simply. "I owe you a lot more than I can ever repay." Now she looks a little unsure. "Are you okay with that? I love you…"

That makes him feel guilty. He leans in now to give her a proper kiss. When he breaks it, he just keeps his forehead pressed to hers.

"I love you, too," he murmurs. "Let's go get Rachael."


	3. Chapter 3

**I-85 S from Atlanta**

The group has split again. Although they haven't tied her back up, Rachael is sitting off by herself. Well, as by herself as she can be less than a few yards away with Carl. He stubbornly refused to leave her side although Lori yelled at him to. Rick lets him do what he wants because he's still not convinced Rachael's an immediate threat.

"Look, if she's been going on foot, it'd take at least a couple weeks for her to get this far," the designated leader of their camp points out. "That means she's been off whatever meds since then, if not longer. No one knows how long Peachford was operational."

They all look over at the twenty-something as she talks quietly with the boy. This time it is Carl's turn to be completely absorbed by her stories. Lori had freaked out about what the girl could have been saying, until Carl told everyone that Rachael had lived in Sweden for three years while going to college. Clearly anything from that far away would be fascinating to a seven-year-old.

"She has to be a little rational if she's made it this far," Dale finally says. He turns back to the group first.

Daryl has to admit he's right, and he hates it. "We could use her, too, for runs into hospitals. She'll know medicines and shit."

The group is uncomfortable. Apparently they'd lost all rights to the drugs given to the Greene's when they let loose the walkers and shot them up. They are dangerously low on medical supplies if someone gets hurt. No one wants to think about it, but they don't have much of a choice now.

"He's got a point," Andrea says, and then shakes her head. "Never thought Dixon would be the voice of reason."

He scowls at her. "Yeah, fuck you."

"No thank you."

Glenn just rolls his eyes at them. Why was it they all became as immature as middle schoolers when the world ended?

"So we just give her a gun?" Shane asks, incredulous. "Why don't we just shoot ourselves and save her the trouble?"

Dale frowns. "She said she had a tire iron. We could just give her one of the hand weapons. Just so she has something to defend herself with."

"We still got one of them fire axes from the CDC," Daryl speaks up again. He looks uncomfortable. "I'm almost out of arrows, too. Need to find a surplus store and reload. It'd help to get more ammunition for the guns, too."

Everyone shares equal looks of unhappiness. They'd been trying to avoid going into any major cities, but now it looks like they have no choice. They all glance from Rick to Glenn.

The latter holds up his hands. "This isn't gonna be Atlanta, you guys. I'm not going to know ways in and out."

No one really wants to risk going all-in. For a couple minutes, no one says anything.

"What's the closest city?" Rick asks, glancing around to include everyone.

"Newnan's not too far from here," Dale says. "Moreland is on the way, too. It's smaller."

Rick nods, leaning back in his seat with a heavy sigh. He rubs tiredly at his face. "We'll go towards Newnan, and then scout it out. If there're too many walkers we'll push onto Moreland."

"What about Rachael?" Lori asks. Although this is a necessary conversation, to discuss the group's plan of action, she's more concerned by the immediate threat of the schizophrenic. Especially considering how close Carl is getting with her.

Dale frowns. "We don't shoot sick people. It isn't like she's a walker, she's just sick. Not everyone is in their right state of mind, especially in these circumstances."

Rick gives Shane a look, before looking up at Lori. "Dale's right, sweetheart. Could you really just _leave_ her here and have a clear conscience?"

Lori shakes her head. "N-no, but…"

"She can ride with me," Daryl offers, surprising himself. "The seat on the bike's big enough for two, and she obviously don't have no luggage."

Everyone just gives the loner a surprised look. They'd figured Daryl was the last person to offer to watch over a stranger. Andrea recovers first.

"I'll watch her when we're camped," she says. Whether it's Rachael's age, or her fitting into her sister's clothes, she doesn't know. All she does know is that she feels protective of the young woman.

Glenn pipes up. "Me, too. If she goes with us into the town to help with medical supplies, I'll watch her."

"She needs shoes, too. Amy's are too small," Andrea adds. "If we have to run, wearing shoes that are too little will slow her down."

Which will slow them all down.

"I'll watch her in the city. If we find a good store, it'll have shoes and weapon shit," Daryl says. "Really good shoes, built for rough terrain."

"So the party that goes scavenging is Glenn, Rachael, and Dixon?" Shane wonders. It's obvious from his tone just how much he likes the idea. "Shit, we might as well all go, then."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Daryl snaps.

"Yeah," Glenn adds. "I can take care of myself."

"And Crazy over there? How are you going to get in, get the supplies, and get out while watching over her _and_ looking out for walkers?" Shane asks.

"Then the three of us could just be the scouts," Glenn says. "Dixon is good at tracking and being quiet, no one even heard Rachael until she was at the edge of the fire, and…well, I'm fast. Newnan's streets can't be _too_ different from Atlantis."

"If we're just scouting, then it'd be easier if it's just me and the girl," Daryl says. "We can go in, and at least get her boots. Maybe find the best route to any hospitals. She can carry ammunition. Bullets ain't that heavy."

Glenn actually looks a little relieved he's not on errand duty again. He just shrugs. "Yeah, whatever's easiest."

Rick thinks about it for a minute or so, before nodding. "Daryl and Rachael can go on ahead and scout out Newnan. We'll meet them at the exit to get there, and decide from there what to do next. Either we send in a larger scavenging party, or move on to a safer town."

When he looks around, no one seems to have any arguments. Shane still doesn't look particularly happy, but lately he never does. It takes a few more seconds for it to sink in that Daryl has volunteered to go off on his own with a nutcase. With a groan, he gets to his feet.

"Where's the ax?" he asks, looking at Dale. He's not really sure when the old man had become the guard for the weapons. "I'll go give it to her and tell her the plan. We can leave on the bike at first light."

Dale pulls the ax up off the ground. "Here. T-Dog used it to chop wood earlier."

Daryl catches it when it's tossed to him, and moves off towards the psych patient and boy. When he gets closer, he hesitates to listen to her story.

"…and then Per, Alex's cousin, caught the baby reindeer with a rope," she's saying, smiling wistfully. "He was supposed to just give it their family's mark and let it go, but he motioned for me to come over. That was the first time I pet a reindeer."

Carl looks like she just told him about petting a unicorn, which Daryl finds almost amusing. He's pretty sure reindeer and caribou are the same thing, and since caribou are just another kind of deer, it's all venison. _Damn, now I'm hungry,_ he thinks.

"Rachael," Daryl says, before Carl can comment on the story. "We need to talk." He looks at the boy. "I think your mom wants to see you."

It isn't the most ingenious way to get the boy to leave them alone, but it works. Carl looks at him suspiciously, before wandering away over to the fire with everyone else. Rachael, for her part, doesn't look suspicious, just expectant.

"You're Daryl, right?" she asks, frowning thoughtfully.

He's not sure how he feels about her knowing his name. He decides it doesn't really matter. "Yeah, that's me."

Standing up, she looks at the ax in his hand. "Are you going to kill me?"

The way she asks is so monotonous, so empty, it makes the hairs on his neck stand up. He doesn't understand why, either. She just asked a simple question. But so far, despite everything they've gone through, he hasn't met someone who sounds as broken as she does. Is it the mental disorder, or her own experiences?

_Get a grip, Dixon_. He shakes his head a little. "No, I'm not. This is for you."

Rachael takes the ax that he hands her, and looks it over. A creepy smile appears. "I had an ax first. I missed it."

"Uh, great," he says, running a hand over his head and messing up his hair. It felt greasy, and caked with dirt, too. "Look, we're going in the morning to Newnan. We'll scout it out to see if there are many walkers, get you some new shoes, and look for the easiest route to a hospital. We need to stock up on supplies, and if there aren't too many of the dead, we'll come get the rest of the group."

She seems to be more interested in the ax than what he has to say, running her thumb over blade to test the sharpness. Daryl's actually kind of impressed, until he's annoyed she didn't react.

"Are you listening?" he demands.

She nods. "We're going to Newnan in the morning." She looks up at him. "I'm going with you to scout it out for the zombies."

So she was listening. He almost feels like an asshole for doubting her, but shoves that away. What does he care? She's not family. He'd just agreed to babysit her. God, he's getting fucking soft. Merle would never let him live this down.

Oh, wait, Merle is gone.

"Yeah, that's right. So, uh… sleep where I can get you up without waking everyone else up." Shaking his head a little, Daryl backs away to go. "I'll wake you up whether you're ready to move or not."

"Okay," she agrees. Before he can get too far away, she looks at him curiously. "Do you have something I can sharpen this with?" She holds up the blade. "Whoever's been using it has dulled the blade."

"Yeah… follow me."

Without waiting for her, Daryl wanders over to where the truck he and his brother had brought along. Lately someone else is driving it while he rides the bike, but his stuff is still in the back. It's while he's digging in his bags for the whetstone he uses to sharpen his knife that she wanders over to him.

"Are you going to bathe before we go?" she asks.

That has him looking at her like she's gone insane—or well, more insane. "What kind of fucking question is that?"

"You reek," she points out. "Maybe not as bad as I did, but enough. They'll smell you, and you don't smell dead. You smell like sweat. The dead don't sweat."

He's not sure whether to be impressed with her knowledge of what the walkers go after, or offended she thinks he stinks. He figures he'll go for neutral, and not give a shit.

"Fine, I'll rinse off. Whatever," he says. He finds the whetstone and yanks it out. "You know how to use this right?"

She takes it and considers the object for a minute, before nodding. "Yep!"

Without so much as a thank-you, she turns and wanders off to the fire where everyone else is now listening to Carl retell her story about the baby reindeer. That leaves Daryl standing by himself. Rolling his eyes, he digs out some clothes that were cleaned the last time they did laundry, and grabs his crossbow before marching off for the creek to bathe.

He's doing it to survive the city, not for the crazy chick that asked him to.

* * *

><p><strong>Columbus, OH<strong>

Getting out of Fort Benning had actually been a lot easier than getting inside. The soldiers had obviously thought the three were insane, but had no reason to hold them in. After all, freedom is still a right, even if it is the freedom to go get their asses eaten.

Ethan's knowledge of cars comes in handy right off the bat when they need to hijack a car. The next thing is getting the car to Alex's apartment, which fortunately isn't in the middle of the city. It's actually not all that far from Fort Benning.

"I didn't bother to board it up, since the zombies don't bother trying to break down doors unless they smell people in inside. I just locked up." He shrugs a little and parks the car.

For a while, the only zombies they saw were a handful. They couldn't keep up with the car, and the soldiers had reported that the majority of the zombies were located downtown, except when they came to the military compound randomly. Those were shot, so they didn't draw more attention to them.

There aren't any zombies outside the apartment complex, so he just gets out. Leaning down, Alex says, "Tabby, you should drive around the block and keep the car moving."

The few times they saw a zombie, she'd gone still and white. Ethan is painfully reminded of how freaked out about zombie movies she used to be. Not that Alex really knows, but he understands. He doesn't like zombies either.

"If you'd rather go inside with Alex, go ahead," Ethan says. "I don't mind keeping the car going."

"N-No, I can do it." She slides over from the passenger seat into the driver's seat. "You guys go, you can carry more."

"Keep circling, okay? You'll see us that way." Ethan moves to follow Alex.

They both take the stairs two at a time, because of the urgency. Alex's long legs make it easy, but Ethan's are bowlegged and it's harder that way. However, he manages to keep up with the tall Swede.

Alex pulls the key out of his pocket and lets them inside. His apartment is in the state of chaos that he left it in when he ran out. There are a few pictures that he didn't bother to take with him, that he couldn't stick in photo albums. He has two of those full of pictures and letters from between him and Rachael when he hadn't been able to come back to the States with her.

"Come on, the guns are in my room."

Alex pushes around Ethan to go down the short hallway. The bedroom is even more of a mess, with clothes strewn all over the place. He'd grabbed clothes for Rachael, even though he wasn't sure he was going to get to her. Now he just wants to get the guns and go get her.

There's a small gun safe in the closet that he'd gotten when Rachael started ranting about demons. She tried to load one with rock salt before he got it away from her. It opens fine when he puts in the code.

"Holy shit, man," Ethan says, staring at the guns. One of those is definitely an assault rifle. "How the hell did you even get this in the country?"

"I have a license," Alex answers with a little shrug. "Rachael helped, too. I had to bring it in a special case and shit."

"Right, well… that's awesome." Ethan just pulls out the ammo, while Alex loads the guns into another duffel bag. There are only a few other things in the safe besides the guns and ammunition, mostly just holders and proof of license.

"Don't need that anymore," Alex says with a wry smile, shutting the safe and standing. "Let's go."

Ethan is pretty much okay with Alex keeping the assault rifle. Not only does he have no idea how to work it, but it's pretty intimidating. Give him a standard rifle any day. Although he has to admit the Glock is nice.

"That's Rachael's," Alex says, looking at the pistol. "Her dad got it for her after he fell in love with his own."

"We'll let her have it, then." Ethan offers his friend a smile and carries it out with the rest.

Neither of them wants to think of how bad Rachael's delusions will be when they get to her. Chances are if she's not already dead, the delusions will keep her from really saving herself. Alex keeps remembering when he found her loading the shotgun with rock salt. He wonders if that will even take down zombies.

Tabby is on her third circle by the time she sees the guys peeking out the front door of the building. She almost honks, before remembering the sound will only draw the dead. Pulling over, she puts the car in park and slides into the backseat.

"Get everything?" she asks once they've opened the doors.

Ethan nods, and passes back the bag that holds the majority of the guns, as well as the Glock, before climbing into the passenger seat. "That's Rachael's, so put it with the others."

"Why do you have so many guns, Alex?" Tabby wonders, staring into the bag.

He sets the AK-5 behind his seat and closes the door just as a zombie comes stumbling out of an alley. "Family liked to hunt, and I was in the Swedish Armed Forces."

Ethan and Tabby look at each other before shrugging. Sounds like a good excuse to them.

Alex peels away from the curb and clips the zombie with the front bump, destroying a knee. Tabby winces as it drops and bangs against the door on her side, scooting more towards the middle of the backseat.

"How much gas we got?"

"Enough to get us halfway there, provided the engine's in good condition," Ethan says, having glanced at the gas gauge himself. "I'm sure there will be cars to siphon gas from. We should probably find a hardware store and pick up a gas can and hose for that."

"Keep an eye out for one, then," Alex says as he dodges a flipped car.

"Will do."

With the boys settled on their jobs as pilot and copilot, Tabby just shifts the guns onto the floor behind Ethan's seat and tries to stretch out on her own. Perhaps she'll take over if one of the guys gets tired. It isn't exactly a long drive, but they might have to take detours or something, she has no idea. It will be good for at least one of them to get some sleep, anyway. Hopefully Rachael will be able to hold out a little bit longer. Tabby doesn't want to think about whether or not her friend has made it this far, so she closes her eyes and forces herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer:_ I still don't own anything except the people you don't recognize. _The Walking Dead_ has become my way to avoid studying for finals.

* * *

><p><strong>I-85 S Camp<strong>

It gets uncharacteristically cold that night. Even Daryl isn't expecting it and ends up using Merle's abandoned sleeping bag as an extra cover. It is enough to alert him that the weather will start getting colder and none of them have the gear or clothes for it. At least if they keep heading south it will stay warmer.

He wakes up before the sun has done more than lightened the horizon, and starts packing up his things. He really isn't looking forward to waking up the crazy girl, and figures he can put it off as long as possible. If he gets hungry on the way, he'll just pull over to shoot some squirrel. He isn't really willing to wait for Dale and Andrea to wake up in time for starting breakfast; Lori's pregnancy keeps her away from the cooking food still.

After dumping the stuff that's too big to go on his bike in the back of his truck, he moves to load up the bike. To his utter disbelief, Rachael is sitting on the ground next to the motorcycle.

She's half-dozing off when he walks up, but jerks awake to look up at him. The two of them just stand there silently for a moment, studying each other, before she slowly gets up and wipes herself off. She's changed since the other night, wearing another outfit of Amy's. This shirt fits even worse than the other, and Daryl curses the fact the women kept shit that obviously shrank when they washed it. _How the fuck do you shrink shit in cold water?_

"How long you been awake?" he wonders finally, dragging his gaze away from where the light creases from her hipbones are peeking out at him between the shirt and jeans.

She glances around, like she can find a clock, and shrugs. "A while. I think Rick was on watch… or maybe it was Shane."

She seems almost lucid this morning, and Daryl wonders if schizophrenia only works when the people are actually fully awake. That doesn't really make sense.

He just finishes strapping things to the back of the bike, and realizes that with what he'll need for two people, there's going to be very little room for her. She'll have to press up really close.

"Do I smell better today?" he asks, glancing at her.

Rachael only blinks, before tilting her head and wandering over. She actually _sniffs_ him, and for a minute Daryl feels his lips twitch in amusement.

"Yep," she declares with a little nod. "Why?"

"Don't want you bitchin' about my stench on the ride," is his muttered response.

It's her turn to look amused, but she only picks up the ax he'd given her the night before. From next to it, she picks up the whetstone, too.

"Do you want to bring this or leave it?" she asks, holding it up for him to see.

He takes it without a word and carries it over to the truck to put it with the other shit. When he comes back, she's picked up his crossbow and strapped it on. Fury at someone touching something that's his ripples through him, and he can storms over.

"Who fucking said you could touch that?" he demands. He's not sure what he's planning to do when he reaches her, but ripping it back off sounds like a good plan.

"No one," she answers, dancing back away from him like some kind of frightened deer. "But I can't sit close if you've got it on. I didn't hurt it."

It's only the fact a part of him realizes she has a point that keeps Daryl from tearing it away, and he stops short. Grinding his teeth a minute, he can't think of another solution other than her having it on her back, and hates that he won't have his choice weapon in his hand. But he can't really maneuver the bike if he does anyway.

"Turn around and let me make sure you didn't mess anything up," he snaps, stepping towards her.

This time she doesn't back away, and obliges. "I didn't," she insists. "My step-dad liked to hunt. He always threatened to shoot me with his if I touched it, but I thought it was cool. I learned to be gentle with them."

"Smart man," Daryl mutters. Apparently the lesson stuck with her, because she hasn't so much as knocked one of the remaining arrows askew from the careful line he'd put them in. He steps away, and snatches up the ax.

If she expects an apology, she won't get one.

Rachael watches him while he puts the handle between the packs he has on the back, so it's pretty securely strapped on. Daryl even shakes it a couple of times to make sure he's not going to dislodge it going over potholes. Satisfied, he looks at her.

"You ready?"

Her answer is to walk up to the side of the bike expectantly. He kind of likes her silence. Small talk gets annoying real quick, and it seems with most girls all they can do is talk.

He just throws his leg over the side of the bike, pushes it forward off the kickstand, and waits. Rachael doesn't seem to need another hint, and crawls on behind him. She scoots up so her thighs are pressed against the sides of his, and slips her arms around his waist. Like they've done this a million times, she rests her head on his back with a little sigh.

Daryl really has no idea what to do with how comfortable she is, and kind of gets distracted by the warmth of having her body pressed so close. It's been long enough the thought of being trapped in the V between her legs has him shifting uncomfortably.

"Something wrong?" Her voice is soft.

With a shake of the head, he kicks the bike into life. "Nope."

Only Glenn on watch sees them go.

* * *

><p><strong>34 E to Newnan<strong>

_The screaming outside scared most of the patients who were lucid enough to hear it. Rachael didn't know what's going on, and peeked out of her window in time to see several of the staff racing for their cars. It looked like there were dead people walking around, and for a moment she wondered if she'd lost track of time. If it's Halloween, the neighbors had some twisted sense of humor to come scare the shit out of psychiatric patients. _

_It wasn't until one of the "dead" grabbed a nurse and literally tore out the throat with its teeth that Rachael realized this wasn't Halloween, and the made-up zombies really were, in fact, zombies. For a moment, all she could do was stare in shock as a couple of other zombies joined the first and started gorging themselves on the twitching flesh of the nurse. _

_The loud footsteps in the hall suddenly made even less sense to her. Where did everyone think they're going? If the zombies got in, they're all dead anyway. _

_Moving away from the window, she went over to the door. There were gunshots in the hall that made her freeze. Who brought guns into a hospital?_

_Suddenly a body rushed into her room. Every muscle in her body went tight as she tried to hide behind the door. However, seeing it's Jared, the orderly who had taken over giving her medication while a lot of the nurses seemed to go on vacation all at the same time—which suddenly made sense now if the world was ending—she relaxed. When he whirled around, she put a finger to her lips. _

_Very quietly, she pushed the door to her room shut. It locked from the outside, and there's really no way to blockade it from here, but at least it'd act like a barrier for now. Maybe not from whoever was shooting, but those zombies didn't look entirely smart._

"_What's going on?" she asked. _

_Jared dragged her to the corner next to the door and pushed her down. He went to peek out the little window in the door. Suddenly he jerked back and pressed against the wall. From where she's sitting, Rachael could see a gas-masked face pressing up against the window and glancing around inside. For once she's glad she made her bed, for her room looked practically deserted. The mask moved on, and after another glance outside, Jared sank onto the floor with her. _

"_The world's gone to shit, Rach," he said quietly, glancing at her with haunted eyes. "The dead started coming back a couple days ago. No one knows what's going on. Atlanta is under quarantine. We thought we were safe, or at least far enough out of the main city…"_

_He trailed off to look away, as if seeing things she couldn't. She recognized the look, because she knew she'd had it when she hallucinated. At least with her medications right now, she knew that's what they were. _Demons aren't real_. At least they weren't until a couple of days ago. _

"_We moved all the TVs out of the common rooms for a reason," he continued. "But we've all been listening to the radios, going online, and watching the news in the nurse's stations. There's fucking_ zombies_ out there!"_

_If it's the side effect of the medication, Rachael had no idea, but the apathy towards the situation was almost scarier than the situation itself. Which made no sense whatsoever. She just scooted closer to Jared, almost crawling on her knees, and pressed against his side. _

"_Shh, they might hear you," she whispered. She's not sure who _they_ were. _

_He just nodded, rubbing at his face and looking at her. "When was the last time you had your meds?"_

_Rachael could only stare at him. The world was ending and he worried about her taking her medication on time? A small snort escaped her, and she ended up grinning at him, before giggling._

"_I have no idea what time it is now, so who knows? Been a few hours. But, seriously Jare, we can't go get it right now anyway so what does it matter?" she asked._

_He only huffed. "It will when they get things under control."_

"_We can wait in here until then. We should go to the nurses' station when the guys with the guns are gone," she insisted. It locked from the inside. "You can shoot me up with as many drugs as you want then, okay?"_

"_They're military," he stated, ignoring the comment about shooting her up with stuff. "Got here this morning and started doing thorough sweeps. Most of them looked over the staff while the rest looked in on you all. But someone made the mistake of talking about the evacuation from downtown Atlanta, and people panicked. Then the zombies showed up."_

_Rachael just gave his shoulder a squeeze, and sat on the floor next to him. "We'll figure this out later. The zombies can't get onto the main floors anyway, not without the codes. As long as no one stupid leaves the door open."_

_Jared nodded, figuring she's right, and tried to relax. Neither of them wanted to think about loved ones, and were mostly still convinced this was a local incident. Surely it hadn't gotten past Atlanta if the military was making sweeps into private hospitals like this?_

"_You think Alex is okay?" Rachael asked, curling up against him even more. _

_Jared hesitated, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be fine. You said he had all those guns, I'm sure he'll be fine."_

_Both of them thought of their friends, Tabby and Ethan. It had been Tabby that knew about this place through Jared, and talked Rachael into checking herself in. Only Jared's promises to keep an eye out for her had persuaded Alex to go back to work, despite Rachael's insistence that he not lose his job. Rachael figured that with Ethan being a farm boy, he'd at least know his way around a shotgun or something, and tried to relax. _

"_I hope they're all okay," she said finally. "And that they don't do something stupid like try to come up here to us."_

_Jared's response was only a small snort and a little nod. Hopefully this would all just blow over quickly, especially with the military already so involved. _

Rachael jerks awake to Daryl yanking on her arm. She lifts her head off his back and frowns at the back of his head.

"You fall asleep again and I'm going to pull over and tie you to me," he shouts over the rush of the wind as they speed along. "I'm not dealing with you falling off!"

"Sorry!" she says loudly, hoping he hears her. He must, because he just shakes his head a little.

Shaking her head hard, in the attempt to keep herself awake, Rachael looks at the landscape. For the most part, this part of Georgia looks the same as everything else. The highway has trees on one side, and fields on the other. There are only a few cars scattered on the sides of the interstate, and she realizes that they've taken an exit off I-85.

"Where are we?" she calls out.

"Gettin' close to the edge of the city," is the answer she gets. "Expect we'll be runnin' into walkers soon."

That doesn't sound pleasant. Reaching behind her, she feels for the handle of the ax. She can probably slide it out if she needs to, but hopes she doesn't.

For his part, Daryl's glad she's just awake. When he'd felt her grip loosen on his waist, he'd kind of panicked. She'd interlocked her fingers, though, so at least she hadn't entirely let go. He can only imagine the hell he'd get from people if he came back without her and had to say she fell off and was scraped out along the black top.

True to his prediction, they start to see a few scattered walkers shuffling along the road. They ride right past too fast for the dead to really sense them, except to shuffle and growl at the smell of them after they're gone. Rachael glances behind them each time, as if expecting the dead to have suddenly gained superpowers to catch up. It's also to make sure none had latched on at the last second.

The closer to the city they get, the slower Daryl goes. It makes the engine rumble quieter, and he wishes Merle had bought something other than the Harley with quieter engine. However, he's also aware that his brother couldn't have afforded something as nice as that anyway.

By the time they pass what looks like a big mall, he's cruising along at about 40. He can feel how tense and uneasy she is.

They pull over not far from a cemetery, figuring the place to be pretty empty since all the dead would be roaming elsewhere.

"Know anything about Newnan?" Daryl asks, glancing over his shoulder at Rachael.

She shakes her head. "Nope…"

She squirms a little behind him and he really wishes she wouldn't. It's steadily gotten hotter as they made their way to the city, and he can feel the heat between their bodies when they touch.

"Great…" Because neither does he.

"There was a car rental back at the mall, they might have maps?" she offers.

He vaguely remembers seeing that, and curses softly. "Hold on, gotta turn around."

She tightens her grip for it, and squeezes when he wheels the bike around and shoots off down the road back the way they came. She can tell he's pissed about having to turn around, and doesn't blame him. The noise of the bike will attract the zombies and going back to where they might be will make it more dangerous.

Fortunately, the parking lot of Enterprise Rent-A-Car is still empty, and from the road it looks like there aren't any dead wandering around. Daryl pulls the bike in and shuts it off right up at the doors.

"I can go in," Rachael offers. The building looks undisturbed; there aren't any broken windows.

He seriously considers it, before nodding. "Give me my bow," he says, holding a hand up for it.

She waits until after she's crawled off the bike, only able to really do so by rubbing up against his back because she's a little on the short side. Alex would say she's really on the short side, but she's just glad he's not here right now. Hopefully he got back to Sweden before shit hit the fan. Maybe Sweden is safe?

Rachael hands Daryl the crossbow, still absorbed in her thoughts about the possibility of the general coldness of Sweden being a good deterrent to zombies thriving past the initial reanimation. She yanks the ax out of packs and heads for the door.

It's unlocked, which is good, since that saves her from making noise by breaking the windows. There aren't a lot of maps still available, which confuses her, until she realizes the ones missing are those that lead out of Georgia and to other states. Clearly people trying to get to distant family took them. She finds one that has the streets of Newnan included, and hurries back out to the bike.

Daryl doesn't comment, and reluctantly trades the map for the crossbow, which she tenderly places on her back by ducking under the strap. It's while she tucks the ax back into the bags that he opens the map and starts to look around.

"All this does is really show where the damn hospital is," he mutters, sighing heavily.

She climbs back on the bike to peer over his shoulder at it curiously. It doesn't seem to have any information about the shops or anything, just roads. There's a couple important places highlighted, such as the hospital he mentioned, but that's it.

"Think we should just walk through the city?" she wonders, glancing at him.

"Might as fucking well. The bike's too damn loud to ride through the goddamn streets." Pissed off, he attempts to fold it up, but gets frustrated and just hands it back to her to do it. "We'll leave the bike on the edge."

She doesn't argue, and squeezes her thighs to keep a grip on him as she keeps folding it. He ignores that and takes off, focusing on keeping a lookout for the dead.

When he sees one, he pulls the bike over and shuts it off immediately. "Let's go," he says.

She smiles a little at him like he just asked her on a date, and climbs off again. She gives him the crossbow without asking, and then grabs her ax.

Without speaking, the two of them come up with the plan of not making any noise unless necessary. With Daryl low on arrows, they figure if they can get away with it, Rachael's ax will be their weapon of choice. Up until the first walker, he's actually a little worried that the petite woman can hand the ax on her own. It isn't like she's been eating healthily or anything, so he worries about her strength.

That is until she almost takes the first one's head clean off with one swing.

"How long did you fucking sharpen that thing?" he wonders, breaking the rule about speaking.

She blinks, an almost scary look of glee fading from her face as she glances back at him. "About half an hour." Turning back, she yanks the ax free of the skull.

Daryl only shakes his head and presses on. The girl is almost fucking psychopathic and not just psychotic. He really needs to stop caring so damn much about what she is or isn't.

Rachael follows him, although neither of them really have any clue where they're going. It takes a lot longer than Daryl likes to find a surplus store. It isn't as good as a chain store, but it'll do. It also helps there aren't any damn walkers around.

He pushes her inside and points at the shoes in the back. "Go find yourself boots. I'm getting ammo."

Rachael only nods and sprints to the back of the store, quickly scanning through the shoes for her size, and then pulling out ones that look as sturdy and efficient as possible. She ends up with a pair of comfy, waterproof hiking boots, and starts to race to the front of the store where she left Daryl.

For whatever reason, she ends up going to the register to see what's there. Behind it on a bulletin board, there's an ad for a sale at a Dick's Sporting Goods store that's also in Newnan. The address is there, but having no idea where in relation to this store it is, Rachael just grabs the printed ad and goes to the door. When she gets there, Daryl is glaring at her.

"What'd you go over there for?" he demands.

She smiles and holds up the ad for the store. "It's somewhere in Newnan. They'd be bigger with a better selection of ammo and arrows, right?"

Blinking, Daryl's struck with the urge to kiss her he's almost so relieved. The ammo he'd found won't even hold them up for another large group of walkers, so if there's another store close by, that will really save their asses.

"I could kiss you," he mutters, pulling the ad out of her hands and sticking it in a pocket.

She looks at him long enough to make him regret even joking about it, before nodding. "Wait until we get out of the city, then you can."

_The hell…?_ He gives her a confused look, not sure if she's joking or not, before shaking his head and peering back out in the street. There's a group of walkers slowly making their way in their general direction. "Shit."

What he would give for the Chinaman and his knowledge of Atlanta. If only this was Atlanta.

"Run," Rachael suddenly hisses, and bolts out the door.

Daryl finds himself staring at her back in confusion, before he hears the groan. He doesn't hesitate and lunges forward, just in time to miss being grabbed by the store attendant who must've been among the shelves somewhere. He uses one of the new arrows to twist around and jam it into the eye of the walker, before yanking it out and sprinting after Rachael.

They run until Rachael can't anymore, when she hunches over and wheezes a couple blocks from that horde. Daryl glances around quickly in paranoia, before looking at her.

"Uh, you… okay?" He isn't really sure what he's supposed to do now.

She nods, straightening up. "Asthma, I'll be fine," she wheezes, panting. Pulling out the map, she glances around. "How far from the hospital do you think we are?"

"Better yet, where the fuck are _we_?" he wonders.

Turns out they aren't terribly far from where they left the bike, which is good. It also turns out that where they entered the city is almost on the opposite side as the hospital. Both of them peer over the map for a better way to get to the hospital.

"If we go back to that bypass on 34, then… it comes out north of the hospital, and we can just turn on this road with the caravan," Rachael says, looking at the map with a frown. She peers up at him. "Do you want to do that with the bike today?"

Daryl sighs. They'd have to back track almost entirely back to I-85 to take the bypass, and that's a longer trip. However, he's pretty sure Rick and Shane will expect them to have done it. He also would feel better knowing what they should expect. If they can map out a good way to get the damn RV through, then that's even better.

"Yeah, we'll go back and start that," he mutters. "Not sure if we can get all that done before dark, and it's not safe out in the open at night. Might have to set up camp."

Rachael shudders. "It's cold at night…" she mumbles to his almost offended look. Honestly she has no problem sharing a tent with him. Hell, to stay warm, she'll sleep in his sleeping bag with him, too.

He relaxes a little, not even sure why he'd gotten angry. Forcing himself not to dwell on it, Daryl shrugs and looks at the map. "I brought the tent, that's why there's so much shit on the back of the bike. There was only room for one sleeping bag, though, so—"

"We'll share it," she cuts in before he can offer it to her. That catches him off guard and he just eyes her. She shrugs. "I won't let you freeze, and I'm not very big. We can both fit, or we can use it as a big blanket and unzip it completely."

Great, sharing a sleeping bag with a crazy girl, just what he wants to be doing. _At least she's hot_, Daryl thinks. He rolls his eyes a little, thinking of what his brother would say. Actually, Merle wouldn't say anything; just make an inappropriate gesture followed by crude laughter.

"Fine, whatever." He backs away so she'll fold up the map and they can get going back to the bike. "Let's just get a move on."

It doesn't occur to him until the two of them are walking towards the bike again that they haven't eaten anything all day, and he isn't really sure what time it is at all. The sun puts it at least mid-afternoon, and he wonders why she hasn't complained about being starving. That is until he remembers that comment she made the first night about not remembering the last time she ate. If she's used to going days without food, then she probably is used to being hungry.

"You hungry?" he asks, getting on the bike after passing her the crossbow.

She ducks into the strap again and situates it on her back before shrugging. "Yeah, kinda," is her answer. She climbs on behind him without putting the ax away.

"I'll hunt when we set up camp," he mutters.

When she catches him giving the ax a pointed look, she shrugs. "Feel like we'll need it."

He scoffs, but lets her be when she just wraps her arm not holding the ax around his waist. As long as she doesn't fall off, he doesn't care.

"Don't nick me with the blade," he warns.

She smiles a little. "I won't."

He peels out of the alley and heads onto the road. It's a damn good thing she kept the ax, because just as they get to the end of it, a walker appears.

"Fuck!" is all Daryl gets out as he swerves a little.

Rachael lets go of him with the one arm and shifts the ax out. She lifts her legs up so she can grip at his hips with her thighs, and uses the momentum of the motorcycle to propel the blade of the ax through the walker's head.

Daryl's impressed. "Holy shit!"

His exclamation makes her smile. Lowering the ax as he speeds up, she slips the handle between them so that their bodies will keep a hold of it, too. She also holds on with her right hand, while the left comes around to grip at the front of his shirt over his stomach.

They ride back to the exit for the bypass, and take that for a while until they get almost halfway. There's a wooded area near what looks like a creek. Better yet, there doesn't seem to be any walkers around.

"Know how to put up a tent?" Daryl asks.

Rachael looks at him sheepishly, having handed him back the crossbow. "No, not really, sorry…"

He just gives her a look like she's absolutely retarded, before shaking his head. "It's not rocket science."

Fortunately, even if she doesn't know, the two of them manage to get the tent put together and up without too much trouble. Rachael makes a point of shooing him away to put the stuff that can go inside in the tent, and unrolls the sleeping bag.

"Stay put, I'm gonna go shoot us something," Daryl says, watching her. "If you need help, scream."

She just gives him a little smile and nods. "Yes, dear."

He shoots her a dirty look, before storming off into the trees. There's some game trails as he goes in deeper, but he's wary of getting too distracted and going too far away from Rachael. He's pretty sure she can handle herself if a walker shows up, but he is worried there might be multiple like the amount that attacked camp out by the quarry. Still, he does manage to catch a rabbit and a couple of squirrels. Clearly the lack of people has let the wildlife populate because there's plenty of small game.

When he gets back to the tent, Rachael has managed to magically create a fire. He looks impressed, and she hopes this redeems her for not having any idea how to pitch a tent. _Jared always did that for us, or found an empty house…_

She actually eats a lot, too, having been craving real meat. Squirrel and rabbit are both a first to her, and she doesn't really mind either. It's not as good as pizza and take-out, but she's kind of forgotten what that tastes like anyway.

Her appetite startles Daryl, who is pretty sure she didn't eat that much the time at camp. Maybe she just needs meat to be hungry? He can appreciate that in a woman. _What the fuck, Dixon, the world ended and you're still thinking about pussy?_ Then again, he's definitely not the only one. Not everyone in camp was oblivious to Shane and Lori's relationship, and how awkward it got when her husband showed up. He's pretty sure Merle would have his eyes on Rachael, too, only because she was unattached to anyone and therefore free for the picking.

Sometimes his thoughts about his brother really make him not miss him at all. He's a shitty little brother that way.

Either way, by time he's done burying the remains away from their tent, and has put out the fire, Rachael's already in the tent. It's starting to get chilly already, and he just kind of looks at her blankly.

"What're you doin'?" he asks.

"Waiting," is her quiet answer. "You get in first, and I'll wiggle in after."

He's not entirely sure how good an idea that is, because he's not sure how he'll handle her wiggling. But he doesn't argue, because he's tired, and just zips the tent shut. He would take watch if it wasn't just the two of them, but any zombie will wake them up trying to get through the material anyway. Daryl just kicks off his boots and crawls into the sleeping bag like she said, and looks at her expectantly once he's comfortable.

Rachael's actually blushing faintly when she moves forward. She pulls off her own new boots and carefully slips into the sleeping bag with Daryl. Having not been with the group from the beginning, she doesn't really understand everyone's general wary distaste for the man. He's coarse and has a prickly personality, but she can tell deep down he's a good guy. Judging by how he carries himself and reacts to any kind of criticism—even things he just views that way—she can tell he hasn't had the best life. But that's none of her business.

The sleeping bag is barely big enough for them if they try not to touch, so she just presses up against him and rests her head on his chest. She knows she's taking liberties, and can tell by how rigid he goes that he's not used to this kind of contact. It makes her sad, thinking he's never been touched like this before, and when he doesn't respond to the new position, she just reaches up to pull his arm over her.

Daryl's startled, and a little bemused by how comfortable with him the crazy girl seems to be. He's pretty sure none of the other women in the camp—even those who are dead now—would have ever even touched him this much if given the chance. When Rachael pulls his arm over her like that, he's even surprised by how natural and comfortable the position feels, and just slowly forces himself to relax.

_God, Merle would call me such a fucking pussy right now,_ he thinks, shaking his head a little to himself. But he can't really help that he _likes_ this, and that he enjoys the closeness with someone who hasn't judged him once. It actually makes him feel a pang of guilt for consistently referring to her as the crazy girl in his head. He's as judgmental as Merle.

It's as he's starting to drift off that he hears her giggle softly. Not knowing what she's laughing at, he tenses up defensively.

"What's so funny?" he grumbles.

"You said you could've kissed me earlier," she answers, and he can hear the smile in her voice. "I gave you permission and you haven't done it. If you're worried about crazy being contagious, don't be. It's not."

He frowns, not liking that she's guessed where his thoughts have laid when he tries to convince himself not to be attracted to the crazy. Hating being predictable, he just lifts his arm up from where it's draped over her side to tilt her head up towards him. The kiss he gives her isn't particularly romantic, neither soft nor hard, but there's an underlying passion there that neither of them really know what to think of. Daryl does know that she presses into it to kiss him back, though.

"I know it ain't contagious," he mutters, breaking the kiss. He's scowling at her in the dark, even if he knows she can't see. "I thought you said you had a boyfriend."

Both of them know he didn't not kiss her because he was respecting her supposed relationship, but Rachael doesn't comment on it.

"He might be dead," is her soft, sad reply. Then she's shrugging. "And it's a kiss, not like I'm fucking you."

He's not really sure what to say to any of this, and wishes he hadn't remembered the comment she'd made about a boyfriend. With a huff, he just slides his arm back down so it's curled over her lower back.

"What kind of boyfriend dumps his girl in a mental institute anyway?" he grumbles.

But although he kind of expects an angry, defensive retort, he doesn't get it. It's a few seconds before he realizes the deep, even breathing means that Rachael's already fallen asleep. That kind of amuses him, and he tightens his grip on her, telling himself it's only so that he can shift them both so he's more comfortable. However, he doesn't bother loosening his grip again until he's fallen asleep and his subconscious doesn't bother to hold on.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: _Still don't own anything except the people you don't recognize. Also, all knowledge of the roads in Georgia comes from Google Maps; if anything is inaccurate, sorry to you Georgians.

_A/N:_ Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'm glad you like it. You're why I'm posting now instead of later today.

* * *

><p><strong>I-85 N to Atlanta<strong>

_The weather couldn't have picked a better day to be gloomy and rainy if Tabby had planned it herself. She, her boyfriend, Ethan, and her best friend, Rachael, were on a trip to a private psychiatric hospital outside of the main part of the city. The problem was, Rachael was curled up under a blanket on her own boyfriend's lap, and every time the car jerked or bumped over some uneven pavement she would whimper. _

_After the fourth time, Tabby glanced back at the blond, blue-eyed man holding her best friend through the rearview mirror. _

"_She okay?" she asked. _

_The smile the man gave her was exhausted, and sad. "She says the demons keep pummeling the car, trying to get in. That's what the bumps are."_

_Unsure what to say to that, Tabby could only nod and look back out the window. None of them understood where the symptoms had come from. Rachael had been normal until a couple of months ago, when all of a sudden she started getting jumpy and irritable. However, it wasn't really until Alex found her in their room loading one of his rifles with some rock salt that he really even knew something was wrong. It made Tabby feel guilty for not noticing any sooner. _

_According to the doctors Rachael had been to, she was suffering from paranoid schizophrenia, and had no idea that her beliefs about demons trying to get in and kill everyone were just delusions. The ghosts she talked to weren't really there, either. _

_It was due to Tabby's connection with Peachford that they were headed up there now. Rachael, in a lucid moment, had informed them she wanted to be committed. Apparently she had told Alex it was to keep from destroying their relationship, although she'd understand if he wanted to take off for Sweden again, or break up. Alex had vehemently refused, and was coming along to make sure Peachford was going to be a good place for her to get help. _

_Jared, a friend of Ethan and Tabby, worked as an orderly at Peachford. He had mentioned Rachael to one of the psychiatrists on staff, and that person had called her to set up this visit. If all went well today, she had intended not even to go home. _

"_We're almost there, Rach," Tabby said finally, glancing at the shaking pile of blanket on Alex's lap. "The demons won't be able to get you at Peachford."_

"_Promise…?" came a small, almost child-like voice. _

_Tabby smiled, even if Rachael wasn't looking to see it, and nodded. "I promise."_

_She didn't miss the grateful look Alex gave her as the shivering stopped and Rachael relaxed against him. _

"Tabs." There is a hand on her arm, gently shaking her. "Tabby, wake up. You're dreaming…"

For her part, when she opens her eyes, she's a little startled to see that the inside of the vehicle is blurry. Not only that, but her face is damp and somewhat sticky from tears. Hastily, she wipes at her eyes and forces herself up. She really hates crying.

Ethan is looking back at her with a concerned little frown. "You okay?"

She sniffles a little and nods, trying to reassure him with a smile of her own, but it's shaky. "Yeah. Just had a bad dream, that's all."

If only it was a dream, though. Taking Rachael up to Peachford had been her idea, so it's her fault they have to leave the safety of Fort Benning to go find her. She isn't sure what will upset her more: finding Rachael perfectly safe and content wherever she is, or finding a zombified Rachael that tries to eat them. Tabby hopes, for Alex's sake, the other girl isn't dead.

That's when she notices the tall, lanky Swede isn't in the car, and that they've parked somewhere. "Where are we? Where did Alex go?"

Ethan sits back down and looks around with a little frown. "No idea where _we_ are, but not far from Columbus is my bet. You didn't really get to sleep that long, I'm afraid." He gives her a sad little smile, knowing he'd want to sleep too if he could. However, he's quickly shrugging. "Alex said he had to take a leak, and that he'd look for some cars to siphon gas out of. We're almost running on fumes."

She glances at the dashboard and realizes Ethan is right, which doesn't make her feel better. She almost wishes she hadn't fallen asleep, so she could have a vague idea of what would happen if Alex didn't come back.

However, she doesn't have to deal with that worry for the day, because he wanders out of the darkness almost as she finishes thinking about it.

Quietly, he slips into the driver's seat again and opens a map he's found. "We need to figure out where we're going. The car we have won't last the whole trip, it's old and the inside looks like shit. At least that's how Ethan so eloquently put it."

Ethan shrugs a little, before rolling his eyes. "What do you suggest we do, then? Steal a different car?"

"We could," Alex answers, glancing at him. "I have a slim jim we could use."

Tabby gives him a weird look. "Why do you just happen to have a slim jim?"

He shrugs. "Rachael locked herself out of her car so much her parents had pity on her and just bought her one."

That makes more sense, and definitely sounds like something Rachael would do. She thinks getting a new car wouldn't be a bad idea, considering she doesn't think something this old should be up late.

"Alright," she says, looking amused. "Let's just see if we can make this last to a dealership or something."

"Don't think we can," Alex says with a little shrug. "But there's a pile up a couple miles from here, I saw it from the trees. We could just go through and pick out the car we want."

Ethan sighs, and looks out the windows. "At least there aren't any zombies for now. We'll have to go on foot until then."

Tabby stares at the two guys like they've both started sprouting a new head. Why would they willingly leave the safety of the car to walk? She understands that if the car won't run, it won't run, but still.

"Why can't we just stay in the car as long as possible?" she asks.

Alex glances at her. "We will, but I'm saying this car isn't going to make it the couple miles. We'll have to walk anyway.

She curls up a little in her seat. "Well, let's just… just drive until then."

Alex only shrugs, before starting the car and pulling off the side of the road. He doesn't have to bother looking for traffic anymore, at least. Tabby scoots over so she can see the gas gauge, and winces. The dial is very steadily on empty, so they really are just running on fumes. The gas light has turned on, too.

Ethan watches her for a moment, before leaning back in his seat so he's closer to level with her. "We'll be fine. The highway we're on avoids downtown, so there won't be as many zombies out. We've got Alex's guns, too."

"There's a chance we'll find quieter weapons, too," Alex offers, glancing back at them with the rearview. "We'll be fine."

Tabby just nods a little, hugging herself. She really hates this, and wishes they'd thought to get gas closer to the apartment. But she's sure there has to be a reason they didn't.

The car barely lasts another mile before it sputters out and trails to a stop. Alex pulls it off the road again, or as much so as possible. At least they're on an overhead, for now, and the zombies seem to have stayed down in the city. Ethan shares a look with him, before both get out of the car. Tabby watches them, not sure if she should get out, too, or not. But when she sees that they're loading themselves up with the bags and such, she opens the door on Ethan's side and slides out. Ethan hands her the backpack that's the lighter of the two, which she puts on without a fuss. They have two backpacks and a duffel bag between them, and Ethan hesitates with it.

"Someone has to carry the guns," she points out, holding out her hand for the duffel.

With a sigh, Ethan hands it over. "Can you shoot Rachael's Glock?"

"Uh… no," Tabby says, looking sheepish.

"Here."

Turning, she sees Alex holding out a tire iron to her. She takes it, not sure what else to do, and glances at the weapon in her hands.

"If we can't stop them at a distance, that'll be your best defense," he explains, before ducking around to grab his AK-5 from where he put it behind the driver's seat.

Ethan gets out a shotgun, checks to make sure it's loaded, and puts a couple of shells in his pockets. At the curious look from Alex, he shrugs.

"Had to shoot with my dad," he explains. "Both to keep the herd safe, and for hunting."

Alex considers this, and nods. At least the two of them will have guns, even if the sound will attract the zombies faster. They don't bother to lock up the car, and head out.

"Too bad Rachael's not there," Alex comments after a few minutes. "We could use her archery skills."

Tabby looks confused. "I didn't know she could shoot arrows."

"Apparently she learned a little when she was a kid, but my cousin helped her re-learn and increase the weight so she can hunt with a bow," is Alex's response.

They stay fairly quiet for the most part, especially when the overpass goes back to street level. They manage not to run into any zombies on the way, which is a relief. Neither of the guys wants to risk alerting others by shooing off rounds, and they know if it comes to a large group of them, every round of ammo counts.

It's fortunate they started at dawn, for the air is still fairly cool, if a little humid already. Alex leads, and Tabby watches as the back of his shirt slowly sweats through. She doesn't even want to know the state of her own, and doubts Ethan's shirt looks any dryer. She feels gross, and already misses the showers back at the fort.

"We're gonna need to stock up on water once we have a vehicle," Ethan comments, squinting at the sun that's just starting to crest the shorter buildings. The taller ones provide a little bit of shade. "Gatorade, too, even. We can't be sweating like this without keeping hydrated."

Tabby smiles at him, reaching over to pat on his arm.

Alex nods. "We'll work on that. In the meantime, if you see any machines with bottles of water or Gatorade, let me know. We'll bash them open with the tire iron."

"Will do," Ethan agrees. "I could go for a Pepsi, too."

Tabby isn't sure what to do, but ends up snorting with a giggle. That gets her weird looks from the men, but she just shrugs and looks away so she won't start laughing harder. If someone told her even six months ago that in less than a year, she'd find soda a luxury not worth dying for, she wouldn't have listened.

When they finally reach the pile-up Alex mentioned, the sun is definitely high enough in the sky that even the tallest buildings don't shield them anymore. That sucks in itself, without the blacktop soaking up the sun and pushing the heat out at them as they walk on it. Tabby's a little bemused that their shoes aren't melting to it.

Ethan stops short, having sped up to walk by Alex as they discuss the cars they pass. A lot of them are skipped over for being too old, or won't have good mileage. A couple they want, they walk past seeing that there are dead bodies inside. It's not just a car graveyard anymore, and that sobers them up a little.

Tabby heads straight for a Mustang, and looks at the guys pleadingly.

Alex isn't interested in cars, so he just walks ahead without stopping. That leaves Ethan to gently pull her away from it.

"It won't get good mileage, and isn't big enough for all the luggage and people, Tabs, you know that," he says with a little shake of his head. "Besides, it's old, so it'll be loud. We can't afford to risk it."

Tabby gives the car a longing look, but lets her boyfriend drag her away from it. Seeing the look on her face, Ethan snorts softly.

"Maybe you'll have the chance to steal one another day," he jokes.

She gives him a dirty look for that, and just pulls away to catch up with the long-legged Swede who is inspecting a Dodge Charger. It's as Ethan's heading towards it that he spots something just a few cars behind it. He jogs past where Tabby has joined Alex to look it over, ignoring the looks they shoot after him as he stops in front of a Hummer. Face lit up like it's Christmas, he turns to look at the others.

"Alex, come bring me the slim jim," he calls out, waving him over.

They move to join him, Tabby scowling furiously.

"You just got done saying the Mustang gets too little mileage," she says, sounding somewhat petulant. "Hummer's eat up gas even more."

"Not true," Ethan argues, glancing at her and Alex. "The H3 gets about 16 miles per gallon, which is only three less than the Charger. Besides, this has even more room, and if we lock the doors and lay down, it's like a safe-house on wheels. It's built like a fucking tank."

Alex is frowning thoughtfully, glancing between the stuff the two of you have, and the Charger, before back at the H3. He rubs a hand through his blond hair that looks almost white in the sunlight, and sighs.

"Ethan has a point," he mutters. Alex wiggles out of his duffel, and sets it down on the pavement to open up and grab the slim jim out. He tosses it over the hood of the utility vehicle to Ethan, who catches it with a smug grin.

"Thank God for Rachael's forgetfulness," he says, sliding the tool along the window. He's careful about it, too, not wanting to knock the locking pins loose.

Tabby just snorts and waits until he's gotten the door open, and he's unlocked the rest of the vehicle, before moving to slide the bags she has into the back of the H3. From there she hauls herself up, already liking that it'll put her head above most of the zombies since it's raised so high, and closes the door. It's really spacious inside, and she can see why Ethan likes it so much, although she would've preferred the Mustang. However, the Hummer makes more sense in this situation.

"You driving, then?" Alex asks, amused, as he crawls up into the passenger seat.

For a moment, everyone passes things to Tabby for her to put in the back, which she does. Once that's settled, she just slides over so she's behind Ethan and puts her feet up so the two guys have room to scoot their seats as far back as possible for their long longs. At least Alex does, giving her a grateful look.

"Guess so." Ethan grins at them both, clearly still feeling like it's his birthday or something, and turns to get working on hotwiring the car. He laughs. "Whoever left this, locked their keys inside," he says, amused. He just has to turn the key, and the engine rumbles to life.

"Got half a tank," Alex observes. "That should get us to a convenience store, right? And there's a sporting goods store just northeast of the airport, so we'll need to take the east exit onto I-80."

"Aye, cap'n," Ethan replies, trying to adopt a pirate-y accent, and failing.

Tabby just smiles a little and relaxes. At least now they're safe again, and haven't had to deal with any zombies. That doesn't last long.

Apparently there's a small herd roaming across the interstate as Alex pulls into the incoming lane to avoid the pileup of cars. The first one bounces harmless like off the bumper, but the second latches onto the side mirror. Up close, it's obvious that part of the dead's face was either originally eaten off, or has already decomposed, because it's mouth is visible all the way back to the molars on one side, and past the eye-teeth on the other. The skin is a mottled grey with hints of black and pink for the muscle underneath. It scratches futilely at the window before it gets knocked off by another zombie that Ethan rams into.

Tabby slides down until she's lying down, and closes her eyes tight. She remembers her dream, about all the bumps Rachael thought were demons. _Maybe she was really just psychic_, she thinks, before shaking her head. That couldn't possibly be true. _I hope she's okay._

With her eyes closed, it's easy to pretend the bumps are just potholes again, and when they pass the herd, the smooth rocking of the vehicle lulls her back to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>I-85 Exit to GA-34<strong>

It hadn't taken long for the group to reach the rendezvous point after getting started the morning before. It's still on the highway, though, so they just pull off the exit and park the RV in an empty parking lot. There's a Starbucks across the street that has the girls staring at it longingly.

After everything's set up, Rick gives in. "If you can find something small to make the coffee in, Lori, Andrea, Glenn, and Shane can head over and get coffee."

It's almost like he told them he's found the cure, or something, from the grateful looks he gets. Uncomfortable with that, he just rubs at his hair and moves away to go make sure Carl is doing okay. When they'd woken up, and the boy saw that Rachael was gone, he'd gotten rather withdrawn. He can tell it is times like this that makes Carl miss Sophia. Hell, he misses the innocent fun the two of them had, too.

"Hey," he says, coming up to where Carl has been sitting. He'd stayed close to Glenn, especially after Shane's episode at Hershel's barn.

Carl looks up at him, having watched Glenn join his mother and the other two to head for Starbucks. He smiles at his dad and waves a little. "Hi, Dad. Is everything okay? Where are they going?"

"On a coffee run," Rick chuckles, squatting down to be level with his son. "Your mom and Andrea were about ready to get on their knees to beg me."

Although he wonders if Lori really plans to drink coffee, since caffeine isn't good for the baby. Perhaps she'll find some decaf in there. He pushes those thoughts away, wanting to focus on Carl.

"Oh," is all the boy says. He looks off again, with a worried little frown on his face.

Rick sighs, and shifts his legs out from under him so he can sit on the ground. "What's wrong?" He's not as good at talking about feelings as Lori, but he can tell something is bothering his kid. He's torn with the sudden urge to violently subdue whatever that is, and to just sit there and find out what it is first.

"Daryl will protect Rachael, right?" Carl asks, looking up at his dad again. "She's really nice. I don't get why she had to go."

Rick's rather amused. It seems his son has adopted the stranger. He wonders if Carl has any idea how sick she is, but doesn't want to let him know just yet.

"She was wearing Amy's shoes, which are apparently too small," he explains. "You know how that feels, right?"

Carl winces in sympathy and nods his head. Yeah, he definitely knows; growth spurts suck. "So she went with Daryl to get shoes?" That confuses him a little.

"Partly," he says, rubbing at his face. He really wants to shave. "But they're also scouting for more replacement ammo for the guns and the crossbow, as well as looking for the best route to the hospital."

Carl's eyes go wide. "Hospital?"

"We lost all the stuff to Hershel when he kicked us off his farm," he says with a sad smile. "We'll need antibiotics and painkillers. Most of that stuff was Daryl's." Or, well, Merle's.

"Oh, I see…" Carl doesn't really look any less relieved than he did before.

With a grin, Rick ruffles at the boy's hair. "Stop worrying about it. Daryl won't let anything happen to her. You know she's pretty tough, too, to have made it this far on her own."

Carl nods, before shaking his head. "She wasn't alone, though, Dad. She was with a friend for a while. But he got bitten…"

Rick's eyes widen. "She told you this?" He's going to have to talk to the girl about what details she divulges to Carl.

But then his son is shaking his head. "Not the bitten part. I asked where he was, and she just looked really sad. I guessed."

"Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, kiddo," Rick says with a weak laugh. "Either way, she'll be back. We don't know how far the hospital is from here, or if they went there first. It might be a day or so before they get back. Don't worry about it, alright?"

Carl only nods, hesitantly, before getting up. "Can I go up on the RV with Dale?"

"Sure, just be careful," Rick says, figuring it couldn't do any harm. Maybe Dale can give Carl the binoculars to keep him busy with being the lookout. That would be a good distraction.

He gets up, too, to go keep an eye out on the Starbucks, because he's feeling restless. He just hopes everyone is back with the group soon.

_You better not make me a liar, Dixon._


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own _The Walking Dead_, Dick's Sporting Goods, or Piedmont Newnan Hospital. I do own Rachael, Jared, Alex, Tabby, and Ethan… and anyone else you don't recognize.

* * *

><p><strong>GA-34<strong>

_The stupid military left a body so that it kept the door to the first floor ajar. The zombies didn't seem to be entirely stupid, and wandered their way into the corridor. It turned out that not all the patients had run, even when Jared told them to, so there was plenty of food for the freaks. Running to hide in the nurses' station was what saved Rachael and Jared in the end. The entrance locked from the inside, and they could hide under the desk so that they weren't visible from the window. _

_Before that, they had moved a couple of mattresses into the room for bedding, and Jared had scrounged up a couple of guns the military hadn't taken with them when their comrades got infected. Rachael broke the emergency fire-ax glass to get the weapon out, and kept it near the bed she made for herself. _

_The lift that was used to transport the meal trolleys up from the kitchens in the basement provided security from that. They could go down one at a time to get to the food, and ate the most perishable first. However, living in a small room was boring, and eventually Jared began to read the case files of the patients. _

_Rachael was still pretty bored, however, and quickly became irritable when the screams of the patients abandoned on the upper floors reached her. Their cries for help, and for food, grated on her nerves. However, Jared seemed determined that his job only extended to taking care of her in these circumstances, and didn't move to help. He particularly wouldn't budge to help the convicts and other maximum security patients that were on the third floor. _

_It was about a week into their hiding that he woke up to find Rachael had left the nurses' station while he slept. He also found that his ID card was gone, which would give her access to other floors. He'd written down the codes the first day, just in case something happened to him. After a quick check, he found the list gone, too. _

_Tabby and Alex were going to kill him. _

_However, just as he was about to gather up a gun and ammo, he heard the door at the end of the hall hiss open, and then slam shut. The sound of metal being dragged along tile reached his hears, and he shuddered; it was very similar to nails on a chalkboard. He held very still, in case one of the zombies had learned somehow to use a weapon. _

_To his relief—at least he thought it was relief—Rachael appeared at the door. The good feelings lasted until she opened the door and he saw that she was, almost literally, covered in blood. _

_Her face was splattered with it, and it looked particularly bright in contrast to the white of her clothes. He glanced down to see that even her plain, slip-on shoes were covered. Rachael was holding the ax by the long red handle, and the head rested on the ground. He could see where it had trailed blood around the door and into the hall. He could only assume it led back to wherever she had been._

_The worst part of the whole image was the deadened look in her eyes. It was like all the light that should be reflected from the bright fluorescent bulbs was being sucked into the deep abyss of her dark brown eyes. She just stared at him silently with the door wide open, frozen in place. _

_Finally, he pushed himself up. "What the fuck, Rachael? Where did you go? Why are you all bloody?"_

_He stepped forward to take the ax, but hesitated when she started to lift it up. However, she only held it out towards him to take it. _

"_The screams were annoying," she answered. "You wouldn't let them out, and they were all dying. I put them out of their misery." The look she gave the ax when he took it was almost affectionate._

"_That…" Jared's floored. He had no idea how to handle this. She just admitted to going through the hospital killing all the other patients. In a normal time, he'd be freaked out and call the cops. As it was, he couldn't. Rubbing a hand over his face and into his hair, he leaned against the counter. "Okay…" _

"_I got rid of all the zombies, too," she answered, nodding her head out of the little room they were in. "We don't have to stand guard."_

_Rachael wiped her hands on the already bloody shirt, and turned to go. "I'm going to go shower. I haven't in days."_

_Jared could only stand there in shock and watch her leave. He glanced at the bloody ax, down at the trail she'd made with her bloody shoes and the weapon, and then just shook his head. Clearly he didn't know Rachael as well as he thought he did. _

_Moving over to the large filing cabinets, he unlocked one with the names "I" through "L" on the door. He skimmed until he found the "J" marker, and started fingering through until he came to her file. _

_Jennings, Rachael. _

_Figuring she'd take a pretty long shower, he pulled her file out to read, and sat down on the cot farthest from the door. It was a fairly thick file, which kind of surprised him. Most of the patients refused to talk, but apparently Rachael had no problem. At least it would be some interesting material._

_Rachael enjoyed the hot water, for sure. The electricity was still on, which was nice. Even when it went out, the generators would kick in for a couple days. However, Jared was still convinced that the government would get things under control again. She wasn't so sure. As far as she was concerned, the government hadn't been much help for anything. _

_She didn't use up all the hot water, although her skin was a nice rosy pink when she got out. There were fluffy towels to use, and more of the uniform. Women wore tight, white pants that weren't much more than leggings, with some kind of large white shirt over them. She chose a t-shirt this time, instead of the long-sleeve one she was wearing. _

_Hair wet but not dripping anymore, she wandered back towards the nurses' station, carefully avoiding all the bloody mess she'd made. Why get her feet dirty again when she just got clean? Exactly._

_Seeing the file from the doorway, she just stopped. She knew what hers looked like; how many times had her doctor had it open to write in during their sessions? Even she was curious as to what the doc had said. _

"_Find anything interesting?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. _

_Jared jumped and looked up at her guiltily. "I… Rach…"_

_She only raised an eyebrow, before moving to sit on the other cot, facing him. "If you wanted to know somethin', ya could've just asked."_

_He swallowed hard, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry, I just…" He glanced down at the file. "Did the things you talk about in here really happen?"_

_She went still, before looking away. "You mean about my step-dad? Yeah…"_

"_I'm so sorry."_

Daryl wakes up first, but hasn't moved for fear of waking her. She'd been rather peacefully curled up against him, and he is almost ashamed by how much he's wrapped around her. However, he doesn't bother to move.

It was fine until she suddenly started to shudder and make little crying noises. She even sobs a little, once.

Crazy girls he can deal with, but not crying ones.

Clearing his throat, he puts his hand on her shoulder and pushes her away from him. "Hey, wake up. You're just dreaming."

Rachael jerks awake with a strangled noise, but he's not sure whether it was a whimper or a sob, and he doesn't want to know.

"What…?" she mumbles, rubbing a little at her face and trying to wake up.

He looks away, scowling. "You were dreaming and woke me up."

"Oh… sorry." She looks both embarrassed, and confused.

"Whatever."

Now that she's awake, Daryl doesn't really waste time getting out of the sleeping bag. He's careful not to elbow her or anything on his way out, but he isn't particularly gentle. Honestly he just needs to get space between them.

Rachael doesn't mind, taking a moment to stretch and twist around, popping her back rather loudly. It gets a look from him, but she ignores that.

It isn't until she crawls out of the sleeping back that he realizes she's not wearing pants.

"What the fuck?" he asks. "When'd you take those off?" He casts around him and finds the jeans laying in the corner of the tent.

"Not long after you fell asleep," she answers, shrugging a little. "I got hot."

He just grumbles a little and looks away while she pulls the jeans back on, trying not to think about her ass or anything else he can see. _What a time to go commando,_ he thinks, unzipping the tent and crawling out. He can just hear Merle's voice in his head, calling Rachael "sugartits". It makes him shake his head.

"Sugartits?"

He blinks, not even realizing he'd said the word aloud, and glances at Rachael as she crawls out of the tent as well. "Yeah. Uh, it was a nickname my brother would use on girls…" Why was he explaining?

She frowns a little. "It sounds like a type of cookie." Glancing down at her breasts, she pulls the neck of the shirt open to get a better look. "Not bad, for a misogynistic name. At least it'd make more sense for guys to like sucking on them if they were covered in sugar."

Daryl stares at her for a minute, before turning away to hide a grin. His shoulders shake a little with laughter, and he ends up shaking his head to try to stop. The amusement is hard to bottle, and when he looks back at her, he's pretty sure she guessed what he was trying to hide. Even that doesn't make it easy to hide the remaining grin.

"You're pretty weird, you know that?"

She beams at him like he just read a sonnet he wrote about her. "Yeah, I've heard that before. We should get going though, right?"

He can only nod, and watch in amusement as she starts pulling their things out of the tent. Once it's all out, she glances at him shyly.

"Help me take it down? I have no idea how you manage to fit it all in that little bag of yours…"The impressed tone to her voice makes him a little smug.

"Talent, sugartits," he teases, surprising himself.

She snorts a little and moves back to watch him.

It doesn't take Daryl long to get the tent down and packed up again. She spends the entire time watching, as if really interested in learning how. Daryl isn't really sure how to handle it, so he just stays quiet. He's no fucking teacher, and he never wants to be.

When he's done, she hangs back while he packs the stuff back onto the bike. Neither of them wants to bother with breakfast, and once he's done, Rachael joins him at the bike. He hands her the crossbow rather reluctantly.

"The hospital?" she asks, tilting her head.

He nods. That's all she needs, and she climbs on the back of the bike behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist again and leaning into him.

The rest of the ride isn't very eventful. They have to drive past some suburbs, so Daryl keeps the speed low so the bike doesn't make as much noise. Rachael keeps her eyes on the road behind them as best she can, wanting to make sure they don't create some mass following of the dead. That's all they need, to be blocked off when they try to go back to the group.

So far, so good, though.

The area around Piedmont Newnan Hospital is mostly suburban although there are a few businesses other businesses on the road, most of which seem to be related to the health field. The hospital must have been another refugee center, because there are abandoned military vehicles there, as well as a lot of bodies.

Daryl stops the bike not far from the exit to pull up to the main part of the hospital, and glances around. There are so many dead bodies in front that he's a little wary of going right up to it, considering they can't tell from here if all of them are really dead.

"Gonna head farther down the road, see if it's clear that way," he says.

Rachael just nods and tightens her grip to let him know she heard. This time he eases the bike into motion, and keeps the speed really slow. It takes longer than it needs to, but he really wants to be cautious. They're really close to the city, still, and he doesn't want to risk anything.

The entrance from this end seems to be less cluttered, and he slowly comes up towards the south end of the hospital. Daryl parks the bike not far from a roadblock, and waits for Rachael to climb off before doing so, too. He takes the crossbow from her, loads a bolt, and waits for her to take the ax.

"Let's see if we can find a back entrance to this bitch," he says.

She raises an eyebrow, but nods silently, and follows.

They find a couple of doors that have no handles on the outside, and pretty much rule them out. They'd have to have some way to melt the door open, and they don't. Daryl is in the lead, since his crossbow has long-distance potential and the ax doesn't.

It isn't until they're at the ambulance bay in the back that he spots extra doors. He turns around to point them out to Rachael, only to find she's gone.

For a couple of minutes, Daryl just stands in place, staring blankly at the lack of human presence in his vicinity. He doesn't really know how to react, he's still so shocked he hadn't realized she disappeared. He should have heard her footsteps fade, at the very least. He glances around, but there's no sign of anyone else. It's just him.

Backtracking, he tries to pick up any sounds of scuffling. There's nothing, just his soft footsteps. He can't even hear any heavy breathing. Where the fuck had she gone?

Fuck, the group is never going to trust him alone on anything. He lost a fucking psych patient. All he had to do was take her for a ride to get new shoes, scope out the hospital, and get back to the group. He said he'd watch her and keep her safe. But no, the dumb bitch just fucking disappeared like she could fucking go invisible or some shit.

_Fuck this_. He'll just leave her ass here. At least he knows there's a way in.

He makes his way back to the bike, and is stunned—and suddenly furious—to see her standing there. Rachael's back is to him, and she seems to be messing with something that is on the packs.

"Where the _fuck_ did you go?" he asks, somehow managing to sound furious and intimidating while keeping his voice low. "You was supposed to be watchin' our backs and you just fucking disappear? That shit ain't cool."

He's almost so pissed he could hit her, and would've by now if she wasn't a girl. However, he comes up short when she turns around.

In her arms is an 8-week-old puppy. It's got big paws, so it's obvious that it will grow up large. The fur is a light silvery-grey with different shades of brown splotches covering it from the head down its back, and its legs and paws. On top of the brown are black patches and spots. The puppy just stares at Daryl with wide eyes, before whimpering softly and trying to climb higher up in Rachael's arms. He hates how it makes him feel almost guilty.

As he gets closer, he sees the dog has a blue right eye, and a brown left one. For whatever reason, he softens a little, and the puppy must sense it because its ropey tail wags a little.

Rachael doesn't seem at all apologetic. "He needed my help more than you. He's starving."

She shows him the puppy's body better by setting it down on the seat of the bike. Daryl frowns when he sees the spine sticking out, and hates that he can count the ribs. He has to admit she's right.

"Maybe, but it ain't like you can take it with ya," he starts, but stops when he sees the determined look. He looks at her incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"He's mine," Rachael states simply. "I'm not going to let him die out here. Who knows how he's survived this long, and it isn't like he's like other dogs that have been eating the corpses."

Daryl just looks at the puppy, before rubbing at his face with both hands. He knows, he _knows_, he shouldn't argue with a crazy girl, but he feels like he has to. This makes no fucking sense.

"How the hell are you gonna provide for it? You don't have your own shit, let alone puppy chow. We can't carry the extra weight on a bike, and there's no other room." Not a total lie, but his truck has room in the bed.

"He can eat the guts and shit that the others don't wanna eat," she points out with a shrug. She smiles at the puppy, and it's a smile that makes Daryl's heart skip a beat. He chooses to ignore that reaction.

"How you gonna keep him on the bike?" he wonders, kind of mumbling.

She shrugs. "I'll keep him trapped between us with my arms." She snuggles the puppy against her some more. "He'll be good."

Daryl just shakes his head, not wanting to care. If she wants to keep a dog for a while, that's her business.

"It better not pee on my bike," he mutters.

It's as he's throwing his leg over the seat that a walker in scrubs wanders around the side of the building. The puppy lets out a bark, like that will somehow help, and all it does is alert them enough to look at it. Rachael hurriedly climbs onto the bike as well, and as she said, she traps the puppy on her lap between her body and Daryl's, by putting her arms out around Daryl's sides. The puppy whimpers a little, but huddles close to her.

This time, Daryl doesn't give a shit about noise, and tears out of there as fast as he can. They'll have to stop and siphon gas, but he's perfectly fine with that.

* * *

><p><strong>GA-34 West of I-85<strong>

It is early evening and they still aren't back. This time it isn't only Carl who is worried, because Andrea keeps glancing down the road like the bike will just magically appear at any minute. It doesn't, however, and that leads her to looking at her gun again. She's been trying to deconstruct it for cleaning, and then put it back together again, but with the worry about the missing group members, she's forgotten everything Shane has said.

Speaking of Shane, he keeps vocalizing that they should only wait another day or two before just moving onto the next town Dale suggested. So far no one is listening, which only seems to further throw Shane into whatever is wrong with him. Rick is just trying to keep his friend from exploding on someone.

The trip to Starbucks was successful, for the most part. There were several packaged coffees to take, and Lori had stocked up on teas that didn't have any caffeine. A few are herbal ones, and she hopes that some will settle her stomach when the morning sickness is really bad.

Having taken to sitting on top of the RV with Dale's binoculars no matter who is on watch, it's Carl that sees the bike first.

"They're coming!" he yells, hopping up from where he's sitting. He turns to smile at Dale, as excited as if it was Christmas morning. "Daryl and Rachael! They're back!"

Dale squints a little, before taking the binoculars from the boy to look through himself. Sure enough, he can see a motorcycle speeding its way down the highway towards them. He can see that Daryl looks pissed off, but that doesn't mean much. What else is new? He nods and hands the binoculars back.

"Yep, they sure are. Better go tell the others, huh?" the older man says, smiling a little.

Carl nods enthusiastically. "Yeah!" He hurries to the rear of RV to climb down the ladder.

As soon as his feet touch the ground, he's off and heading for the adults that are trying to work on dinner. That's where Glenn and his parents are, anyway, while Andrea is sitting nearby to converse with the others.

"I saw them! They're almost here!" Carl says, beaming at everyone.

Rick looks a little confused. "Who?"

"Rachael and Daryl! I saw them on the road while I was up on the roof with Dale!"

Lori shoos Rick away, knowing her husband wants to go keep an eye out for the two. She returns to cooking, just glad that she can stomach it now.

Andrea follows after she finishes with her gun.

There's at least a good fifteen minutes before the bike finally gets to the camp. It's pretty obvious by the time Daryl stops the bike next to his truck that something has pissed the hunter off. That becomes pretty clear when Rachael crawls off the back of the bike with a puppy in her arms. The puppy gets Carl's attention, who lights up like it's his birthday.

"You found a puppy!" he cheers, rushing over to her.

Daryl eyes the kid for a moment, before snorting softly and walking towards the main group. Rick moves out to meet him, obviously confused about the dog, but curious, too.

"She found a dog?" Lori wonders.

Daryl shrugs a little. "Apparently she heard it whining when we were looking at the hospital. Found a way in the back that is deserted, and we only saw one walker when we were leaving. Should be able to get in and out pretty easily."

It's then that they all realize Daryl's crossbow isn't with him, and a glance at Rachael reveals it's still on her back. No one really expected the hunter to let anyone touch his weapon, so they all look surprised. Daryl frowns, but doesn't make a move to go get it. She has her arms full with the puppy, so it'd just be a hassle.

Rick pulls his attention away from where his son is getting his face washed by an enthusiastic dog, and looks back at Daryl again. "What about the supply store? I see she has new shoes."

"There wasn't much ammo," he answers, looking annoyed. "But Rachael found an ad for a Dick's Sporting Goods store, though, that's nearby to where we are now." He pulls the ad out of his pocket and hands it over to Rick to look at. "Reckon if we go to the store first, we can siphon gas from any cars littered that way, and then head to the hospital in case there are more walkers than the one we saw."

Rick nods, moving over towards Dale's RV to get out a map to check how far away the store is. That's one thing he misses, GPS.

When Rachael sees Daryl coming back over towards them, she shifts the puppy into one arm so she can get the crossbow off. Daryl doesn't thank her, or even acknowledge it, and takes his preferred weapon. Then he goes to the bike to start unpacking the things they'd taken. He leaves the ax against the bike for Rachael to take whenever she feels like it.

Meanwhile, Carl is happily letting the puppy chew on his fingers. "What kind of dog is it? What're you gonna name it?" he asks, looking up at her with a big smile.

His enthusiasm makes Rachael smile back, and she scratches the puppy's head. "Pretty sure he's a Catahoula Leopard Dog," she answers. "Used to have a couple when I was a kid living in Louisiana. My step-dad kept them for hunting boars and shi—er, stuff." She feels bad for almost swearing in front of the kid.

Carl doesn't seem to notice. "Your step-dad hunted?"

Her smile, and enthusiasm, from before fades away. She nods a little. "Yeah… he did." It's obvious from her tone she won't discuss it further.

After so long on the road dealing with adults that have seen worse than he has, Carl has grown up pretty fast. Although he's curious, he doesn't ask about it, and just looks at the puppy again.

"So… what'cha gonna name him?"

Rachael smiles again. "Livet," she answers, pronouncing it like _LEE-vet_.

To Carl, it seems like a pretty effeminate name for a boy dog that looks so cool. His nose wrinkles skeptically. "Why Livette?" He pronounces it like _lee-VET_. "Sounds like a girly French name."

That makes Rachael chuckle a little. "No, _livet_. It's Swedish for _life_," she explains, shifting the dog so he's cradled in her arms and she can pet on him better. "He deserves a good name, for surviving in this kind of world. He was the only one I found, so… his family is probably gone."

Even though she tries to sugarcoat it, Carl can imagine the rest of the puppies were eaten by walkers, if not the mom, too. He looks back at the puppy thoughtfully, before nodding.

"Livet is good," he declares, finally.

Rachael smothers a smirk and nods. "I'm glad you approve."

Carl only nods again, before turning to go back to the group. He seems pretty intent on telling his parents about the new member of the group.

Daryl glances up from the truck. He's still pissed off that she disappeared for a damn dog. "What happened to your real dad, if you lived with a step-dad?"

Rachael's back stiffens like someone replaced her spine with a rod. "Dunno, my Ma never knew who he was besides a first name." She glances over at Daryl.

He's not sure if it's the angle, but it looks like her dark eyes have turned black, because there's no light hitting them. He can't even see the colors. It gives her a very eerie look.

The answer makes Daryl uncomfortable, and he just turns away to go back to work. "You don't sound like you're from Louisiana," he finally decides to go with.

"I only lived there until I was nine," she answers. Looking away, she nuzzles her face into the puppy's dirty fur, before starting to walk away.

Knowing he's pushed too much, Daryl doesn't even really feel offended by her obvious dismissal. He's had more than enough of the crazy girl for a while.

Rachael heads up to the trailer to see if there's anywhere she can give the puppy a bath. He doesn't stink so much as feel filthy.

"Silly puppy," she mumbles, rubbing on his ear. "We'll try to get you cleaned up."

The newly christened Livet just yips softly and licks on her chin and neck, tail wagging happily.

"Oh! And fed, too, obviously." She feels kind of stupid for not thinking about it.

Although it's doubtful Livet knows what she means, he responds nonetheless to her change of tone and jumps up to lick her more enthusiastically. That just makes Rachael laugh.

She walks right past Jared who is leaning against the side of the RV shaking his head at her. No one else has looked at him, and even Livet just gazes right past him. _He's not real._

_Demons aren't real._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N:_ Reviews make me happy, and inspire me to update faster. I'll keep writing until I'm bored with this story, though, but with the holidays and all… more reviews means I'll get the next update out faster. Thankyou to basserandstuff, Lady-Isowen, Jack-chan88, ImInlovewithDarylDixon, Angi Marie, Jasykes89, nekuranekomegami for your reviews so far.

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own _The Walking Dead_, Peachford, Piedmont Newnan Hospital, or anything that seems familiar to you.

* * *

><p><strong>I-85 N to Atlanta<strong>

_December 14, 2009_

_S__ötnos,_

_See? I haven't forgotten any of the Swedish I've learned, if you're worried about it. I hope you're still in Columbus. I understand if you went back home. You haven't come to visit me in a couple months, and I understand that, too. _

_It's nice here. I want you to know that, and to know I'm doing okay. Jared's keeping his promise to you. He's watching me write this on the off chance I try to burn religious symbols into my skin with the eraser. They would've given me a pen, but they thought I might tattoo myself instead. _

_I miss you. Think you could send me a picture? Or, if you'd rather, you could send it to Tabby to give me. She's not as busy as you are. I know I drove you insane (pun intended) before. I'm so sorry about that, Alex. I really am. I don't think I can ever make it up to you. I don't know why I got sick. The doctor says that I might have been genetically at risk, so… it could have happened anytime. I'm sorry. _

_I wish we hadn't come back. I wouldn't have if it hadn't been important, you know that right? And you never had to take that transfer. I wish you never thought I wanted you to. I wish we were back in Stockholm. _

_Jag älskar dig, Alex. I love you. _

_Rae_

From the back seat where he's pretending to sleep, Alex reads over the first of several letters he got from Rachael. He's pretty sure she got his replies, and hopes she kept them safe somewhere. Maybe Tabby knows where Rachael put them. He just folds the letter up and slips it back into his bag.

Unable to sleep, he sits up and rubs at his face. "How far did we get?" he asks, trying to keep his voice down.

Ethan's snoring might not be extremely loud, but it's audible enough even from the back.

Tabby glances at Alex in the rearview. "Not very. There were a lot of road blocks. I kept having to back up and find a new route around it. And, um… there were those things. Ethan told me to run them down."

It's noticeable she had a problem with that. For his part, Alex doesn't see how. It's obvious none of the zombies are still alive anymore, anyway.

"Good job," he says, trying to reassure her that Ethan's judgment call was the right one. He's still not sure why they both look to him for leadership, but he'll try his best. "We'll just have to keep trying to aim for Peachford. We'll avoid Atlanta as best as possible. I'm sure it's like Columbus… or worse."

"Right…" She only nods, relaxing just a little.

The two of them ride along in silence for a little bit, and Alex blindly watches the scenery. But he gets really fidgety with nothing to do and shifts uncomfortably.

"I can drive if you want," Alex suggests, tilting his head a little. He really does want to.

"You didn't really sleep, did you?" she asks, glancing back at him again. "It's fine. I got it. You should get some rest anyway."

"I'm fine," he says with a little shake of his head. That may or may not be true, but he still can't relax. "I promise."

She turns to look at him, smiling sadly. "I got it, so just—"

"Watch out!"

A guy had stumbled out of the tall grass by the side of the road and thrown his hands up. With a scream, Tabby barely manages to swerve out of the direction to keep from crashing into him. Ethan jerks awake at her scream, and just stops himself from flying headfirst into the windshield.

Alex grabs the wheel, having jerked forward to do so, and barely manages to keep the car from going into the ditch. The H3 might be too heavy to flip, but it'll be nearly impossible to get it out if it rolls off the road. He puts it in park, too, since Tabby is just clutching the wheel tightly and shaking.

Ethan sees the guy, who has ducked away like he needs to keep getting hit although he almost caused a crash, and frowns.

"What the fuck?" he wonders.

"Stay here with Tabby," Alex answers. He slides over on the seat and gets out of the vehicle.

Ethan just turns to look at Tabby and try to calm her down. He knows how to deal with her panic attacks.

"Who the fuck are you?" Alex has no patience, and the AK-5 he has aimed at the stranger proves that. He forgot he even still had it next to the door, and doesn't remember grabbing it. The training from before never really goes away.

"M-My name is Troy, Troy Gates," the stranger says, hands up in the air. "I-I'm sorry. I just… I need a ride. I didn't mean to cause an accident."

"You come out of fucking nowhere like one of those fucking freaks and you just need a ride?" Alex is furious. This idiot almost got them all killed, or at least seriously injured. How would he rescue Rachael that way?

"I-I said I'm sorry," Troy answers. He's shaking.

It takes a second for Alex to realize the camouflage pants and green t-shirt are army fatigues. That means this guy has defected, or worse…

"Why are you out here alone?" is his next question. He hasn't moved the barrel from where he has it lined up just above the area between Troy's eyes. "Are you bitten? Or did you just defect from your company?"

Troy shudders, but shakes his head. "N-Neither. I didn't get bitten, a-and my company is dead. All of them…"

Alex almost pities the other man when he sees the haunted look. However, he can't really afford it right now. Rachael is way more important than some stray military man.

"Strip. I need proof that you're not bitten." Alex isn't taking his word, either.

Troy only nods a little, before slowly lowering his hands. He removes the shirt first, and drops it on the ground. After that, he loosens the military-issued belt, and then drops the pants. Alex doesn't blink until Troy has turned around and let him see that he's not bitten on his ass, either. That done, he just glances at his legs.

"Bang around on them, you don't have to unlace the boots," Alex says. He knows that the bites go bad fast, so even if Troy isn't sweating yet, the area around the wound will be extra sensitive.

Troy doesn't even hesitate, only tugging up the pants enough to remove access material from where it's pooled around his knees. Then he practically pummels his calves and shins. He doesn't wince even once.

"Get dressed. You're riding in the back with me," Alex says.

"No, he's up front with me." Ethan's watching from the passenger seat, door open. "Tabby can't drive right now, so I want her to rest in the back."

"You gonna drive, then?" Alex asks. It's a dumb question. Ethan already has the keys.

With a sigh, the tall Swede nods his head at the empty passenger seat. Troy, now dressed, hurries over to get inside. Alex crawls in back, where Tabby is already curled up behind the driver's seat. She glances at him, smiles shakily, and then curls up against the door on her side.

Alex just shuts his door and rubs at his face. This is going to get crowded.

"Where are you headed?" Ethan asks, glancing at Troy.

Alex wonders if his friend overheard the man's name, but figures he doesn't care enough to introduce anyone.

"Um… I-I was going to head for Fort Benning," Troy answers. Then he glances back at Tabby, blinks in surprise that there's a girl along for the ride, and then smiles at her. "I'm Troy."

Ethan glares at him, but manages not to reenact a caveman-esque moment of being possessive and territorial. A deep breath, and then he looks at the road. "We just left Benning. We're heading north, toward Atlanta."

Troy looks at him, and then Alex, like they've lost their minds. "Atlanta's gone! They… they dropped fucking _napalm._"

Alex tries not to shudder. But that's on the city, and Peachford is outside it. They wouldn't drop it on the hospital.

"I said towards Atlanta, not into it," Ethan mutters. He starts the car and pulls back onto the interstate to continue the journey.

Troy frowns, but doesn't repeat what he said.

Tabby finally speaks up. "We… we're getting a friend. We just left Fort Benning, so… after we get her, we're going to go back."

Alex isn't sure who is more shocked she said anything, Ethan or Troy. Ethan scowls at the road again, obviously unhappy she told the new guy anything. Alex doesn't blame him, but he also knows Tabby is still pretty naïve and innocent at this point, despite what's gone on around her. He's pretty sure the look Troy gives her is something Ethan should really be wary about.

"How do you even know she's still there?" Troy wonders.

It's Ethan's turn to glance into the back at Alex. The tall blond has gone rigid in his seat, and Ethan finds himself thinking it's very lucky that Troy is sitting up front. Otherwise the new guy would have a black eye, or possibly be unconscious, judging from how furious Alex looks.

Troy seems to pick up on the thin ice he's walked onto, and just focuses his attention out the window. Smart move, in Ethan's opinion. He doesn't really like Troy, but they'll keep him along.

"You can ride with us," Alex finally says. "If you're still alive when we head back, then you can do whatever you want when we're back at Fort Benning."

Troy only nods, and slumps down in his seat. Perhaps he'll just keep his mouth shut for the rest of the ride.

* * *

><p><strong>GA-34 West to Piedmont Newnan Hospital<strong>

Daryl is pretty tempted to shoot the damn dog. Not on the principle that Rachael abandoned him to get it, but because he's tired of everyone cooing over the mutt. He just wants to eat, and crash. But that isn't going to happen with everyone throwing a fit about the puppy.

It takes them a while the next day to get started, because suddenly Carl has to have Rachael and the puppy in the vehicle with him, whereas Lori isn't so sure an untrained pet should be in the car. Since Daryl is still in no mood to deal with the crazy or her dog, he doesn't volunteer to take her. She ends up riding with Carl, which pleases the kid very much.

The small caravan doesn't get very far. The RV still doesn't have a replacement hose, and everyone has to stop and get gas. By the time they make it to the place he and Rachael had camped the night before, everyone is tired and cranky from the trip. They all decide to bunker down here and start off earlier the next day. Everyone pitches in to help get the makeshift camp set up so chores can be done before they lose daylight.

However, Daryl just keeps as far away from them as he possibly can. After all, he is used to being left alone from before Merle disappeared.

It's easy to get food for the group. Apparently they were able to stock up on things while he and the crazy girl were scouting. All he needs to do is shoot some things for meat to go with the canned goods they got.

Afterwards, while the others are still chatting by the little fire, Daryl slips away to the tent he set up. It's too hot to get into the sleeping bag still, but that's fine. He can smell Rachael's scent while he's lying on top of it. He makes a mental note to try and get it as dirty as possible so he can't anymore.

It totally escapes him when he drifts off. The dreams feel good, that's for sure. That it's a damn good thing he doesn't have the crazy chick rooming with him, is a somewhat lucid thought he has as he starts to wake up again. She'd notice the embarrassing case of morning wood. However, he's pretty much content to just ride out the pleasure he's feeling, and not wake up yet.

Until he feels his pants being tugged on.

"What the hell?" He jerks back from the pressure that he suddenly feels on his legs, eyes flying open.

To his shock, Rachael is straddling his thighs, watching him. "I'm apologizing, and thanking you," she says.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares at her. "Are you fucking insane?"

That makes her smile. "I've been told that, yes. This has little to do with my mental disorder, though." She reaches for the button of his pants again.

He stops her. "What the fuck? What are you doing?"

Rachael only shakes her head. "I told you, I'm apologizing and thanking you." Before he can repeat the same questions, she pulls her shirt off.

That leaves Daryl with a pair of large, full breasts less than a foot above his face. Even if this is the apocalypse, shit, he's still a man. He still has needs. And even if Rachael is as crazy as a person can get, she has really, _really_ nice tits. She's also not half-bad looking otherwise.

Still, he puts his hands on hers to stop her from going for his pants. However, he ends up letting her remove his shirt, and frowns.

"What exactly you plannin' to do?" he asks, suspicious.

"Fuck you," she answers nonchalantly. "That's all. Just sex."

He frowns. "That how you usually thank people?" That's not much of a turn off, although he wonders if he should even care about STDs at this point.

"No," she answers. "I've slept with only one other person to thank them, and three people total." Getting up, she wiggles out of the jeans she's wearing.

Daryl finds himself wondering how it's even remotely fair that someone so crazy could be so fucking hot. He shoves that away, and only watches as she kneels down again over him. Maybe he should just let her?

"What're you thanking me for?" he demands, unable to really be anything other than contrary. He's pretty sure he learned it from Merle.

"For watching over me, for taking care of me when I know you don't have to," she answers with a little shrug. It makes her breasts move, so he knows they're real.

_Stop it, Dixon._ He just scoffs and looks away, but his eyes end up back on her tits. "And the apology?" he grinds out, almost spitting it.

She leans down and kisses along his chest. There are scars there, from times his dad's beatings got out of hand and Merle wasn't there to help him. But she just kisses over them like they don't exist, and continues on down.

"For leaving you alone to get Livet," she answers pausing a little above the dip where his ribcage ends. She glances up at him. "I'm sorry."

He looks pointedly away from her. "Whatever. You don't have to fuck me to make up for any of that shit."

"I want to," she answers. "And don't tell me you don't want to fuck me back."

She glances down at the definite bulge that's become more evident in his pants. Very gently, she rubs on it through the material, and that elicits a soft moan from Daryl.

"Fine, just… this ain't gonna be a regular thing," he warns when he can think coherently again.

"I won't hold you to that," she murmurs.

This time, Daryl doesn't stop her from undoing his pants. Hell, he actually helps her, which frees Rachael up to continue her attentions on the rest of his stomach. She trails her way down, teasing, only to reverse direction and move back up to capture his lips. It's while she's doing that that she moves her body up to align her hips with his.

With a little noise of pleasure, he flips her over so he's on top. He said it wasn't going to be a regular thing, but nothing about them only fucking once.

He pauses after a thrust. "Way I see it," he pants softly in her ear, "you owe me a fuck for gratitude, and a fuck for an apology. But considerin' my life was in danger for each, maybe more."

This just gets a little giggle and she leans up to nibble on his earlobe, rolling it around in her teeth gently. "Best get busy, then. It's fortunate you set up your tent so far from the others."

With a little smirk, he captures her lips again to stop all the talking. He wants to focus on the act, and not what else is going on. He doesn't want to think at all, besides concentrating on the pleasure he's feeling.

Neither of them is aware of anything besides each other for the next few hours. In fact, they don't even notice when people start going to bed. When Livet wanders over to start whimpering and pawing at the entrance to the tent, he eventually gives up and falls asleep.

When Daryl finally falls asleep, Rachael has lost count of how many fucks there were. Clearly boys from the backwaters of Georgia have pretty awesome stamina, just like the girls that grew up in bum-fuck nowhere Louisiana. She has no problem with that, and wonders if the two of them could share horror stories. She knows the look of scars from broken liquor bottles.

The tight, possessive grip of the nicely toned arm around her waist at least keeps her from trying to leave. It tightens when she shifts a little to keep her own arm from falling asleep under the weight of the rather muscular hunter. Leaning up, Rachael kisses the slumbering man's face. Daryl grumbles softly in his sleep and pulls his head away, but tucks her closer under him.

Rachael glances over into the far corner of the tent, and glares at Jared. He gives her a sad look, before just shaking his head. '_Go to sleep.'_

She only flips him off. Turning her face towards her new lover, she nuzzles closer until she's tucked into the crook of his neck. It's warm and safe here. Hopefully Alex will understand and forgive her, wherever he is.

_The shattering glass from the hallway made Rachael jump. At six, she knew better than to sneak out of her room. She couldn't really even hide in it anymore. Not since Scott took the door off the hinges. He got mad when she figured out that she could put a chair up against the doorknob to keep the Bad Time from happening. She still had breathing troubles during gym class from the ribs Scott broke. _

_Still, the loud noises didn't stop her from getting out of bed with the stuffed bunny that Dallas had given her clutched to her chest. She knew it was from their mom, but Dallas had put his name on the gift tag and Ma hadn't taken it off. It was her favorite birthday present ever. _

_At the door, she peered out of the room and down the hall. Ma was sitting at the kitchen table, mouth shut and head down. It looked like Scott was drinking again. _

"_Get up you little piece of shit!" Scott's voice was so loud Rachael was sure the trees outside in the swamp could hear it. _

_Those poor trees heard a lot. _

_There was the scraping of shoes on the wooden floor. Dallas was only ten, but he had learned early to keep shoes on in case he had to run out of the house. That had stopped working when their step-dad took such a liking to his baby sister. He had to protect her because their mother wouldn't. _

"_Fuck you!" Dallas shouted back. _

_For a moment, Rachael was pretty sure that her brother was Superman. How else could he get away with saying that to Scott?_

"_WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD?" _

_Rachael had slipped out of her room, somewhat expecting Dallas to be able to fly over and grab her, to get out. Instead, she watched as that broken tequila bottle Scott was holding slashed out and caught her big brother across the side of his face. _

"_Dallas!" she screamed. _

_Unfortunately, that only got her the attention of the drunken man with the bloody glass. _

"_Hey there, Rachie-Roo," Scott said, leering at her. _

_Uh oh, this was going to start the Bad Time. Rachael wished she hadn't woken up, that she hadn't left her bed. She hugged the stuffed rabbit to her chest tight, and wished she could just go lay back down and sleep this away. _

_She took a step back away from the drunk her mom married, large brown eyes widened in horror. The movement made Scott's leer disappear and turn into a dark scowl. He stormed closer to her, bottle raised. _

_Face bloody from his right ear almost to his nose, Dallas pushed up off the ground. Both of them knew Ma wouldn't help them. They were on their own. Roaring furiously, the boy launched himself at their step-father. Rachael had seen him grab the other end of the broken bottle, which is what Dallas rammed into the older man's rear just next to his tailbone. _

_Scott roared with pain. That finally made their mother jerk into motion. _

"_Oh my God, Scott! Are you alright?"_

_While she raced to her wounded husband's side, Rachael moved around the furious drunk to her big brother. Dallas had retreated several feet back, far enough away that Scott couldn't reach him easily. When he saw his little sister shuffling over to him, he reluctantly dropped his end of the bottle to catch her. _

"_I'm 'kay, Rach," he said, ruffling her hair. _

_She only looked at him, eyes filling with tears. "But y'bleedin'!" she wailed. _

_Knowing the neighbors would hear, their mom gathered up her two wounded boys and her daughter and hurried them all to the nearest town's hospital. Rachael held tightly onto Dallas' hand the whole time. The nurses gave her a lollipop, just glad it wasn't the little girl in the ER this time. There was nothing the sheriffs could do if no one could report ever witnessing her actually being abused.  
><em>

_Dallas needed eleven stitches, while Scott only had his cuts cleaned out and received bandaging. That night, Rachael didn't have the Bad Time because Scott stole the painkillers the doctor prescribed for Dallas and took enough to be unconscious for hours. _

_Once everyone was in bed, Rachael snuck out of hers and down into Dallas' room. The door didn't lock, or have a handle, but there was at least a door. She slipped inside and hurried over to crawl into bed. _

"_Rach?" Dallas stirred a little, before gently shifting so he was on her other side. That put him between her and the door; between her and Scott if he barged in. "What ya doin'?"_

_He frowned into the darkness, and jumped a little when something cool and soft brushed over his face. It almost tickled, and smelled of her. It was Foofoo, the bunny, and she was using its ears the way he did after the Bad Time when he snuck into her room. Smiling softly, he shifted closer to slide an arm over her. He had to be careful not to let the stitches get caught on the pillowcase.  
><em>

"_Thanks," he mumbled. "I feel be'er now."_

"_P'omise?" Rachael tried to see if he meant it, but his room was too dark. She couldn't even see his face, although she could feel his breath on hers. _

"_Much more be'er," Dallas whispered, eyes closed. _

_Smiling happily because she made it better like Dallas did for her, Rachael wiggled closer and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. With Bunny Foofoo trapped clutched tight under one arm, she knew she was safe here. Dallas was her Superman. _

* * *

><p><span>Translation Notes:<span>

_Sötnos_—Swedish term of endearment; literally "sweet nose"

_Jag älskar dig_—Swedish for "I love you"


End file.
